


Sound of Silence

by chenria, stealyourshiny



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Disabled Character, F/M, M/M, Physical Abuse, Physical Disability, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:12:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chenria/pseuds/chenria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealyourshiny/pseuds/stealyourshiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During his time in solitary, Anders was beaten by a templar. The result was that his throat was damaged and he can no longer speak. How does this change his life going forward? How does this affect his interactions with others? How does this affect what happened in Amaranthine and Kirkwall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also a big thank you to my beta for this fic - LadyIntegra!

_“Maker, what did they do to him?”_

_“What do you mean ‘they’? Are you inferring that my knights are responsible for this?”_

_“Aren’t they?”_

_“It could have been the demons-”_

_“Don’t be stupid, Greagoir-”_

_“He’s waking up, First Enchanter!”_

_“Do what you can for him and let me know his progress. Be gentle.”_

*

He did not like being left alone in this place, but at least his patients didn’t try to get him to tell them his life story or something. The people who had just walked in however... they were different.

Anders kept his attention on the boy in front of him, trying to draw the infection carefully out of the child’s lungs. He strained to listen as the small group of well-armed people came further into the clinic; closer to him.

“There are two of them, right? Isn’t that what Lirene said?”

“Yeah, two men.”

“The healer is obviously one of them-”

He couldn’t hear anymore as his attention was pulled back to the gasping child on the table, who sat up suddenly. Anders relaxed his grip on the Fade and let the magic ebb away as the child caught his breath and his parents gratefully picked him up and tried to press food into Anders’ hands. He waved them away with a smile, moving to the nearest pillar - where his staff was leaning - to catch his own breath.

“Are you one of the Grey Wardens?”

Anders grabbed his staff and spun around, holding himself in a defensive position. There were five of them - a red-haired woman with guard armour, a younger girl with a bandana around her neck, a dwarf with no beard, an angry-looking elf with a huge sword, and a man with something that looked like chocolate or mud on his nose who was taller even than Anders was. The tall man seemed to be in charge, but the woman in the guard uniform made him nervous.

“Hey whoa there, Blondie, no need to go waving that around. We come in peace,” the dwarf said, giving Anders a charming smile. He relaxed a little, putting the staff back, but still within easy reach if needed.

“So, are you one of the Grey Wardens we were told about?” the taller man asked again, also giving Anders a charming smile. He sighed and glanced at the door, wishing his partner would come through it.

_[Yes, I used to be a Warden, what do you want?]_

The group stared at him blankly.

“That looked like scout signs,” the elf finally said, frowning slightly at him.

“They’re not the same thing, but yes,” came a voice from behind the group and Anders looked relieved as the dark-haired archer stepped forward.

_[Where were you? They came in looking for Wardens.]_

“I know, I had gone to see Lirene and she told me they might show up,” Nathaniel said, turning to face them. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“My name’s Hawke, this is Aveline-” Hawke gestured to the red-haired woman; “my sister Bethany,” the young woman with the bandana; “Varric,” the dwarf; “and Fenris,” the elf was last and was watching Anders with a level of curiosity that was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

“I’m Nathaniel, and this is Anders. What do you want from us? Lirene said you were looking for Wardens.”

“We’re going on an expedition into the Deep Roads and wondered if you might have any maps of the entrances in this area?” Hawke was practically batting his eyelashes at them.

_[Make them work for it,]_ Anders signed, grinning slightly at the archer. Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but gestured to Hawke to follow him. The two stepped away from the group, moving to the side a little to speak in low voices.

The four that were left looked at each other and then at Anders, who stared back at them. He hoped they didn’t expect for him to entertain them while they waited. He looked around the room, noting that there were no new patients, and began to roll up bandages on a nearby table. After a moment, the younger woman with dark hair came over and started to help him. Anders looked up at her curiously but kept rolling.

“So, you’re a mage?” she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He shrugged. The girl gestured to his mouth. “Were you born like that?”

He shook his head no and looked up from the bandages as the other three people came over to him as well. Aveline started to fold alongside Bethany while Varric sat on a stool watching. Fenris leaned against the wall where he could see the door and Nathaniel at the same time, which made Anders smile. Obviously a guard or mercenary of some sort.

“Did you two come with the refugees from Ferelden?” the dwarf asked, tilting his head to the side with curiosity. Anders nodded, still smiling and folding. He took the ones that Bethany and Aveline folded and placed them into a box with others that were already folded for use.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Nathaniel said, coming toward them again with Hawke behind. “He can speak. He just likes to play the pity card for pretty girls.”

The archer looked at Bethany as he said this and Anders rolled his eyes. Anders made a few signs at Nathaniel, who grinned.

“What did he say?” Bethany asked, looking at Nathaniel and trying not to blush.

“Nothing that should be repeated in polite company,” the archer replied, stepping to the side as Hawke moved between his younger sister and the dark-haired warden with a scowl on his face.

“If he can speak, why doesn’t he?”

Anders looked over at the elf, who was also scowling; at him instead of Nathaniel. “Because when I do, no one can...”

He put a hand to his mouth and began to cough violently. His voice had been raspy and quiet, barely audible over the everyday noises of Darktown. Nathaniel came over to him and helped him to a stool while he continued to cough, his face turning red as he tried to catch his breath.

“Sorry, I was teasing a little, but it’s easier for him to talk with his hands. His throat was damaged some years ago,” Nathaniel said and glanced over at Fenris.

“We’re going to give them some help with something in the Chantry tonight, and in return they’ll give us the maps and help us with any jobs we need doing to get the coin,” Hawke said, looking over at Varric with a smile.

“What something?”

Anders could tell that this elf was going to get on his nerves, despite his sexy voice and pretty face. He took slow, deep breaths as he tried to settle the irritation in his throat from speaking. Magic helped sometimes, but it was hard to do anything when he was doubled over from coughing.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Hawke said, frowning slightly. “Let’s get going, we’ll meet you tonight, Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel nodded and watched them file out of the clinic. He put out the lamp and closed the door behind them, letting the people in the room still collect themselves to leave if they could. Anders was breathing better by the time Nathaniel came back to him, holding a cup of water. He took it, drinking slowly and carefully.

“They’re going to help us get Karl tonight,” Nathaniel said softly, glancing around at the people leaving. Anders sighed gently in relief. He’d been worrying about that ever since they’d decided to break the mage out of the Gallows. The two of them could do a lot together, but if any number of templars showed up, there was no telling what might happen.

When the room was finally empty, Nathaniel dropped onto a cot with a sigh. “You should get some rest. Hopefully this will be easy, but I know you won’t stay behind if I tell you to, and I don’t want you falling over from exhaustion.”

Anders rolled his eyes at the archer but knew he was right. He returned to the table to finish rolling the bandages and packed them into the box along with the others that Hawke’s friends had helped roll before removing himself to the back of the clinic. He and Nathaniel had set up their own room to sleep in there when they had taken residence. He removed his coat and settled onto a cot.

He was nervous about this. Karl was his friend, not Nathaniel’s, but the rogue was insistent after the last letter. Karl was in danger and three was safer than two, was safer than one. At least that’s what Nathaniel said, though Anders always thought that one had an easier time escaping than two or three did. Though he had to admit, he and Nathaniel had been at liberty for far longer than Anders had ever been on his own without being caught (time with Wardens not included), and Nathaniel was a lot better at hiding than he was.

What felt like a few minutes later, Anders was shaken awake. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep, and was handed some bread and water before being pulled to his feet. Anders hurried to pull his coat on, though he was careful with his food, wetting the bread and eating it slowly. It was disgusting, but better than choking by accident. He grabbed his staff and followed Nathaniel’s dim form out of the clinic, locking up behind them, and through Darktown.

By the time they made it up to Hightown and the Chantry, dusk had already fallen. Anders stayed out by the door, watching carefully for any signs of templars while Nathaniel did a quick look around the inside. When the archer came back out again, Anders pointed, seeing that Hawke was apparently a man of his word. He was being followed by his sister, the elf with the tattoos, and the dwarf.

“Thank you for coming, Hawke,” Nathaniel said quietly. “No one has come in or out since we got here, and we haven’t seen any templars, but I saw Karl inside. Are you ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be, I think,” Hawke replied with a bright grin. Anders wondered briefly if the younger man had grown his dark beard expressly for the purpose of it matching his pearly white teeth so well when he smiled. The way Hawke waggled his eyebrows as Anders passed him through the Chantry doors indicated that he probably had.

The nave of the building was dark and quiet, with only a couple of torches lit. He hoped vaguely that it had been Karl who had lit them since he wasn’t sure why they would have been lit in an empty part of the building; it was just inviting a fire. Anders clutched his staff tightly in front of himself as they walked, while Nathaniel cautiously led the way to the stairs and toward one of the smaller side areas. He wondered if his terror was apparent, especially with the tattooed elf watching him with those intense green eyes. He began to make a gesture that he was positive the elf would understand when they came into a well-lit area and he saw Karl with his back to them.

Anders sighed in relief and moved toward his friend with quick strides, pushing Hawke and his sister out of the way as he went.

“Karl Thekla?” Nathaniel asked ask Anders reached the older mage. Karl turned and Anders slid to a stop, his breath caught in his throat. Behind him, he heard Bethany make a strangled noise.

“Hello Anders,” Karl said, his voice blank and lifeless. Anders stared in horror at the red sun blistering on Karl’s forehead and shook his head violently, taking a step back.

“Who did this to you?” Nathaniel asked, putting a hand on Anders’ shoulder and looking around the room quickly.

“The templars said I was too rebellious. That I had to be made an example of.”

_[They can’t! It’s against Chantry law!]_ Anders frantically turned to Nathaniel, watching the rogue’s lips press together tightly. There was a brief flash of blue and Nathaniel was already turning to face the templars as Anders saw them come up the stairs and into the room behind the group.

The ensuing battle was a blur. Anders backed himself against a pillar and dropped glyphs all around himself and Bethany, who he vaguely remembered throwing fire and ice. When it was done, he was breathing heavily from the exertion and began to cough. It had been a long time since he’d had to heal in a battle setting. He felt someone kneeling next to him and a moment later, he could feel the inflammation in his throat begin to subside. His breathing came easier and he looked up to see Bethany smiling gently at him. He nodded to her to show he was alright now.

_[Thank you,]_ he gestured, hoping she would understand.

“You’re welcome.”

She helped him up and they turned to where Nathaniel and her brother were standing by Karl, who was looking decidedly confused.

“You did something! I felt it! It was... it was like the Fade being brought into this world,” Karl was saying. Anders came up next to Nathaniel, still leaning on Bethany a little and they exchanged a look. Nathaniel glanced at Hawke who was frowning at the way his sister was standing so close to the blond mage.

“Yeah, I saw something kinda glowy,” Varric said from behind them, waving his hand in Nathaniel’s direction.

“It was probably that elf,” Nathaniel remarked blandly.

“Anders, I’m so sorry. They found the letters and... Please, you have to kill me, I don’t want to go back to being Tranquil,” Karl pleaded, bringing his hands to Anders’ face.

“I’d rather die than be Tranquil,” Bethany admitted quietly. Anders glanced toward Nathaniel, who only nodded to him, and looked back to Karl again. Everyone else in the room seemed to be superfluous. He could feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and the nauseous dread building in his stomach. He needed to go back to the clinic and lay down with salves to help his breathing again. He could almost feel the passageways constricting. The rogue had moved around behind Karl quietly and Anders watched as Karl’s fight against Tranquility failed, his face becoming passive again.

“I’m so sorry, Karl,” he said in his rasping voice. The older mage’s body stiffened before he gurgled softly, indicating Nathaniel had done the deed. Anders saw the light go out of Karl’s eyes and reached out to catch the older mage as he crumpled to the floor. 

“Anders!”

He ignored Nathaniel and gently settled himself on the floor with Karl in his lap. He closed the mage’s eyes and hiccuped softly. It was only a brief moment of calm before he couldn’t breathe again, the damage done to this throat so many years ago taking over and putting a stop to his grief.

Bethany was next to him immediately, trying to use her limited healing magic to calm the inflammation, but he heard Nathaniel somewhere behind him say something about putting him to sleep.

“He’ll just work himself up again.”

A moment later, everything was blessedly dark.


	2. Chapter 2

_“What if you found a living body to possess?”_

_“Even if I knew how, I would not possess the living. Such is an act for demons.”_

_“What if the person were willing?”_

_“Why would a mortal ever allow such a thing?”_

_“For life. For love. Perhaps together, you can do what they cannot do alone. If you gave instead of taking, I would consider you no demon.”_

_“It is...something to consider. Thank you, Nathaniel.”_

*

Anders had been keeping to the back room for most of the week. He didn’t come out unless he was absolutely needed, and Nathaniel wasn’t going to push. Nathaniel only vaguely knew of what Karl was to the mage; Anders rarely spoke about it. When they’d come to Kirkwall Anders had told him a little of Karl. Karl had been a mentor, a friend, and knowing Anders probably a lover as well. He’d been the one to originally find the Antivan books about the signing language for the deaf in the Circle library at Kinloch Hold and learned it with Anders.

He’d dealt with Hawke as best as he’d been able, deflecting as much as possible about any glowing that might’ve occurred in the Chantry, but he was pretty sure they didn’t believe him. He’d handed over the maps and been asked if he needed any work, which he’d agreed to. He supposed he could follow Hawke around for coin for now, especially after they’d killed templars together.

Nathaniel sat down by the desk that Anders used to make potions and sighed, looking across the room. There weren’t any patients at the moment thankfully and he ran a hand through his hair. The city was a lot more of a mess than he remembered it being. It had only been two years since he’d left, and it seemed so much different now.

Or maybe he was just seeing it differently.

The door to the clinic opened and Nathaniel looked up to see Bethany Hawke peek inside. She smiled at him and came into the room, closing the door behind her. She was carrying a basket and set it down on the desk next to him. 

“I brought some food for you and Anders,” she said, opening it and offering him some bread. Nathaniel stared at it a moment, surprised, before looking up at her and smiling back.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking the bread from her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know Anders turns away all payments,” Bethany said and pulled a chair over to sit by him.

“Not all,” Nathaniel said wryly before taking a bite from the loaf. “We’ve had a few richer customers come looking for special creams. He overcharges them.”

Bethany giggled and looked around the room. “How is he?”

Nathaniel glanced toward the back area where their cots and possessions were and shrugged. “He’s... upset still, but I think he’ll be okay. Karl was someone very... important to him, and mages don’t have a lot of those, from what I understand.”

“I’m sure they’re few and far between for circle mages,” Bethany agreed quietly. She looked down at her hands, rubbing imaginary dirt from her knuckles.

“Do you think you were lucky?” Nathaniel asked her, putting the bread back and looking at her with a slight frown. He only had Anders’ view of the Circle and the Chantry, and Velanna’s view of mages outside of it, but the Dalish were different.

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no,” Bethany replied. “I grew up with only my brothers to play with. I couldn’t really make friends, since we moved around. When I was old enough to understand that I couldn’t tell anyone about myself it... it got lonely. Especially after Father died. Jeffrey and Carver and Mother tried, but talking to them wasn’t the same. They don’t have any magic and don’t really understand. I know Carver resented it a lot.”

“Do you think you would have been better off in the Circle?”

“Sometimes I think maybe I would,” she admitted, looking up at him. “I wouldn’t have to hide or run away. I could be myself... but then I see the Tranquil in the courtyard of the Gallows. I see what they did to Karl, who was a Harrowed mage. I see the scars across Anders’ throat and watch him struggle to breathe, and then I wonder if the Circle wouldn’t be just as scary.”

Nathaniel nodded and patted her hand gently with a smile. “I think I understand.”

“Since... since Karl... I mean... Are you two going to stay in Kirkwall then?” Bethany asked, trying not to blush at his hand still resting on hers. Nathaniel pulled it away and looked back to where Anders was holed up still with a shrug.

“I think... I would like to stay. There is a lot of injustice here in Kirkwall. A lot more than I remember there being when I was here last. I want to stay and help if we can.”

Bethany brightened a little and stood up. “Good, I mean... I’m glad you’re staying. The refugees have really come to rely on this little clinic. My brother will probably need the help too. He’s always getting himself into trouble. He got that scar over his eye at Ostagar, you know.”

Nathaniel stood as well, feeling surprised. “Hawke was at Ostagar?”

“Yes. He and my brother Carver and Aveline. When the army was told to retreat he and Carver came straight to Lothering to get us. We barely made it out alive.”

“Yes, I’d heard about Lothering. I didn’t know you were from there.” Behind him, Nathaniel could hear Anders moving about and he glanced over his shoulder to see the mage emerging from his cave. Bethany looked over at him and tried to smile before looking back to Nathaniel and then at the floor.

“I should go. Um... Maybe I’ll come by again. I’d like to learn your hand language, Anders,” she said and backed toward the door. “Enjoy the food!”

Nathaniel watched her slip out of the clinic before turning to Anders, who looked terrible. He sighed softly and reached into the basket, pulling out a bottle of wine. “She brought us some food. I talked to her for a bit about growing up as a mage outside the Circle.”

Anders sat down where Bethany had been and peeked into the basket. He frowned and leaned back, looking at Nathaniel.

_[Nothing I can eat except bread. What did she say?]_

“There’s some chicken in here. I’ll make a broth for you with it. You can pick little pieces off too. Don’t be whiny.” Nathaniel handed Anders the bread and carried the basket over to the small cook pot and fire they had against the wall and began preparations for a soup they could both eat. He heard Anders huff behind him and stood again.

“We need more water don’t we?”

Anders nodded and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. The rogue rolled his eyes and went into the back room to get the bucket. “I’ll get it then. The pump is near the Lowtown entrance, right?”

The mage nodded again and Nathaniel started toward the door. “Alright, but when I get back, Justice and I want to talk about mages, okay?”

The blond looked surprised and frowned slightly, but seemed to agree. Nathaniel was satisfied with that and hefted the empty wooden bucket over his shoulder as he left the clinic. Outside, he put out the light, knowing Anders was in no condition at the moment to handle any crises. When he turned back he frowned and squinted in the dim light of Darktown. He could have sworn he’d seen...

Nathaniel walked forward, going down the stairs near the clinic and back up the other side. That’s when he heard it. He turned to the source, which was hiding in the dark and smiled.

“Why are you standing over there, Fenris?”

He saw the white-haired elf scowl and come out of the shadow he’d been standing in. “Why are you leaving the mage alone?”

“Because he’s a big boy and can handle himself while I go get water?” Nathaniel suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Bah.” Fenris stalked off, leaving Nathaniel confused. The rogue shrugged and continued on his way to the water pump near the Lowtown entrance. He wondered why Fenris had been standing outside the clinic as he filled the bucket. He hadn’t told Anders yet about those markings the elf had. No one had explicitly told him what they were, or anything about Fenris, but he could hear them singing. He understood now why Justice was so enamoured with lyrium, the sound it made really was beautiful. It was a shame people couldn’t hear it without assistance.

He carried the bucket back and started working on the soup.

“You appear to have an admirer.”

Nathaniel glanced over at Anders, who was crushing something with his mortar and pestle. The mage stopped and looked at him with an odd expression.

_[Who?]_

“The elf. Fenris. He was outside hiding in the shadows watching the door. Seemed embarrassed when I caught him and wanted to know why I was leaving you by yourself.” He heard Anders make a noise that he’d come to associate with laughter, and smiled. Nathaniel set the pot onto the fire then, letting it work itself up to a boil before turning to face Anders properly.

“We want to stay here and help,” he said finally, watching Anders’ reaction.

_[Yes, I know.]_

“You know?”

_[I guessed.]_

Nathaniel nodded and crossed his legs, settling himself more comfortably before continuing. “We don’t think it’s fair... I mean...” 

He pursed his lips and tried to think of how to word what he wanted to say. “I never really paid attention before, you know. To the mages. Not until I met you. I know you... I know you say that you didn’t have it nearly as bad as some others, and after seeing what happened with- in the Chantry that night, and talking to Bethany... It’s not fair. You’re not dangerous. You help people, both of you do. Velanna wasn’t quite the same, but she would have done the things she did regardless of having magic or not.”

Anders looked down at the herbs he was crushing and began to work again. Nathaniel watched him quietly, knowing the mage was trying to formulate what he wanted to say before saying it. He had heard that, once upon a time, Anders had been somewhat impulsive, but since he’d known the mage he had not seen anything other than a deliberateness to everything he said when it was important. He had a feeling it had something to do with his throat injury - having to slow down and be careful with everything he did, lest he accidentally choke himself or set off a coughing fit.

The blond put down the pestle again and poured the herbs into a container of thick liquid; it looked like some sort of oil, and put a lid on it.

_[Will you still be helping Hawke?]_

“Yes. He reminds me a little of the Commander. Stubborn, but gets things done. I think he would help us too, because of his sister and he told me his father had been a mage as well.”

Anders nodded absently and swirled the herbs in the oil around for a moment before he put it down on the table again.

_[I’m not going into the Deep Roads with him.]_

“I know. It’s okay. If he asks, I’ll go with him. You stay here and help the Darktown crowd, and the refugees. Maybe the elves too. They’re pretty bad off here as well.”

_[Alright. Just don’t get yourself killed or caught. I’ll help however I can.]_

Nathaniel smiled broadly and stood up, moving over to Anders and squeezed the mage’s shoulder gently. “Thank you, Anders.”

The mage made a dismissive gesture and rolled his eyes before opening his mouth and pointing at it then pointing at the pot on the fire. Nathaniel chuckled and went back to the fire. “Yes, master.”


	3. Chapter 3

_“I’m sorry Anders, it’s really for your own good.”_

_“We think it would be better for you to go to another Circle.”_

_“I think you’d be safer there.”_

_“You’re still implying my Templars were at fault for this?”_

_“You’ll take a ship from Amaranthine with two templars from the Chantry there. Three templars will be escorting you, per Greagoir.”_

*

The Hanged Man wasn’t busy that evening, but Anders hadn’t been enthusiastic about being dragged up to Lowtown to participate in this alleged ‘Card Night’. Nathaniel had snapped something about him needing sunlight and he had retorted with some choice gestures about Nathaniel’s parentage.

Mostly Anders didn’t want to spend any amount of time around that elf of Hawke’s. The white-haired one kept showing up outside the clinic, glowering and watching. He never wanted anything; he would just stay there - usually while Nathaniel was gone - and then leave again when Nathaniel came back. It was disconcerting, especially as the elf seemed to detest him for no reason. He hadn’t even bothered to hide himself since the day Nathaniel had caught him. He seemed to be scrutinizing Anders’ every move, and always wanted to say something. Anders had the sense that the elf wanted to argue with him, yell at him, talk to him, or something but their current language barrier made it impossible without Nathaniel around to translate.

When they arrived, he was relieved to see that the elf wasn’t there. Nathaniel seemed to know everyone after following Hawke around the city for almost a month now, digging up money for the Deep Road expedition. He sat down next to Bethany Hawke and Aveline, leaving Anders to fend for himself between the dwarf and a dark-skinned woman with a very ample bosom.

“Isabela, this is Anders, and across from you is Merrill,” Varric said, introducing him to another elf. She looked Dalish, with tattoos across her face that were somewhat similar to Velanna’s. He smiled at her and she waved enthusiastically before pushing a strand of black hair off of her pale face.

“Varric said you’re a mage too, is that right? And you help people down in Darktown and that you were a Warden and gave Hawke the maps that he’s going to use when he goes into the Deep Roads to find the treasure with Varric and become rich and move to Hightown.”

Anders stared at her for a moment and blinked, surprised that she hadn’t breathed through that before finally nodding in reply to her questions. 

“I feel like we’ve met before,” Bosoms said next to him. She was scrutinizing his face curiously.

The mage suddenly felt overwhelmed. He and Nathaniel had been just two for months now, to be surrounded by this many healthy people who were interested in him was disconcerting. He was relieved when Hawke came over and settled himself next to Isabela, causing her to squeal in delight as he apparently did something to her arse as he sat down. Her attention was turned to the warrior as he pushed a tankard of ale in front of her, another to Varric and one to Merrill.

“Hey Anders, glad to see you come out of Darktown. Didn’t know you’d be here, or I’d have gotten you an ale too,” Hawke said, giving him that pearly white grin again. “Or pinched your bum if you prefer.” Anders just smiled and shook his head a little to indicate it was okay.

“Where’s Broody?” Varric asked, looking around the mostly empty taproom. Hawke took a deep drink from his ale and shrugged.

“He said he’d be here at some point, I’m sure he’s on his way.”

“Are we playing Diamondback tonight? I’ve been practicing!” Merrill beamed brightly from her mug, froth on her upper lip and the tip of her nose, which made her look even younger than she already seemed.

Anders sat watching the table, letting the conversations wash over him. Maybe it was kind of nice to be somewhere busy again. It reminded him of their card nights and drinking parties at the Keep. He still felt the nagging frustration of not being able to join in the conversations, but as he relaxed a little it was calming to sit and listen to people being normal around him.

“Ah!” Isabela put a hand to her mouth, bringing Anders out of his thoughts to realise she was staring at him again. “You’re that mage! From the Pearl with the electricity trick!”

He blinked at her. He hadn’t been to the Pearl in almost four years, well before joining the Wardens and the things that came before that at the Circle. Anders noticed the rest of the table had quieted a little and were looking at Isabela, who was almost vibrating with excitement at her discovery.

“You were _fantastic_ ,” she gushed, touching his arm. “You are him, aren’t you? I never did get your name at the Pearl, I mean we were busy with other things.” Isabela grinned lasciviously at him and winked, which made him smile. The more he thought about it he seemed to remember her, the dark-skinned sailor that came in regularly, and liked a girl with griffon tattoos.

He looked over at Nathaniel, who had managed to tear his attention away from Hawke’s sister long enough to be interested in what Isabela was saying.

_[Yes, I remember you now. You and a girl with griffon tattoos.]_

“He says he remembers you and a girl with griffon tattoos,” Nathaniel translated, raising an eyebrow at the mage. He noticed Isabela’s grin turn to a slight frown as she watched his hands move and heard Nathaniel’s translation. She reached over and tilted his head up, studying the pale scar lines in the stubble on his throat.

“What did they do to you?” she asked, her voice low and sad. “Can you not speak at all?”

“He can, but it’s soft and raspy, and makes him cough if he does it too much,” Nathaniel said for him and he nodded. Her frown deepened and he noticed the whole table was deeply engrossed in their interaction, which was making him uncomfortable. He’d never told anyone except the Commander and Nathaniel what had happened to his throat and he didn’t really want to tell the entire taproom through the rogue.

“Was it the Templars? I’d heard from Sanga when I’d come into port again and asked after you. She said they’d found you and dragged you off. Did they do it?”

Anders shifted in his seat awkwardly, pleading with his eyes at Nathaniel. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with these people he barely knew, not in this room. He swallowed carefully, feeling the panic building up in his chest.

“Hey Fenris,” Nathaniel said then, looking past Anders and changing the subject as the rest of the group turned their eyes from him to the elf behind him. He relaxed somewhat as the conversation went to Fenris’ lateness and whether they’d play Wicked Grace or Diamondback that night as the elf sat down in the empty space between Merrill and Aveline. Anders closed his eyes and breathed slowly, working on soothing the panic in his chest.

When he opened his eyes again he found green ones watching him from across the table. Fenris sat answering questions and replying with dry humour to some of Isabela’s lewder suggestions as to why he was late, but his eyes didn’t leave Anders’ face.

Anders wondered how much he’d heard of Isabela’s questions before they’d noticed him standing there. He looked away first, suddenly wanting to be back in the clinic. The room was feeling oppressive and the conversations around him weren’t as comforting as before. 

“Hey Grumpy,” Varric’s voice cut through some of the panic and Anders looked up, curious as to who ‘Grumpy’ was. A small smile tweaked at the corners of his mouth when Nathaniel actually answered to the moniker, glancing up the table at the dwarf.

“I think Blondie here isn’t feeling very well. Perhaps he needs an escort home?”

Anders felt relief and gave Varric a thankful look as Nathaniel stood up and came over.

“You okay?”

_[I want to go back to the clinic. I’m sorry.]_

“No problem, I’ll take you back and come back again. It’s not a long walk,” Nathaniel told him, giving an encouraging smile. Anders stood up, feeling a little better, but also a little like a child that needed to be put to bed. He waved at those wishing him good night and let Nathaniel guide him out of the bar and into the cool, evening air.

“So what’s the matter?”

_[Too many questions. I panicked. Didn’t... didn’t expect to see Isabela.]_

“I didn’t realise you two had known each other, I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said as they walked toward the Darktown entrance.

 _[Neither did I.]_ Anders smiled wanly and looked up at the sky for a moment, taking in the stars and the moon.

_[I feel like a child. It’s ridiculous.]_

“You were hurt, Anders. Someone hurt you, and you have to live the rest of your life with it. It isn’t fair. It’s even more ridiculous that the perpetrator wasn’t punished for it,” Nathaniel said with a scowl as they began to descend the stairs.

_[That’s Justice talking.]_

“It isn’t just him. I mean, we’re the same now. It isn’t fair. Everyone should be punished when they commit a crime. When they hurt another person. You’re a person, not a thing, not a possession.”

_[It’s supposed to be for our own good. We’re not slaves.]_

Nathaniel pursed his lips as they passed into the darkness of the Undercity and stopped to adjust to the murk. “You’d be surprised. I’ve heard about slavery. Varric told me that Fenris was a slave in Tevinter. A magister’s bodyguard. That’s why he’s so strange about you and Bethany, though he seems to like Bethany. I’m not sure about you.”

_[I didn’t say I agreed with it. He keeps coming while you’re gone to watch the clinic.]_

“Yes, I know. I wish I could talk to him more about it, to find out what it is he’s curious about. Or why he’s out there, but he always leaves as soon as he sees me. I guess I’ll have to ask him while we’re in the Deep Roads.”

_[You’re going?]_

“Yeah, the date has been set. Hawke will have the last of the money by the end of the week, so they’re leaving next week. He asked me to come along. I guess it’ll be him, Varric, me, Isabela, and that little black-haired elf. Merrill.”

_[Not Bethany?]_

“No, he’s being all protective older brother on her, worried she’ll get hurt or killed. I told her she should come down and help you in the clinic. She wants to learn your signing language.” Nathaniel smiled and stopped in front of the clinic doors. He unlocked them and opened it for Anders to go in.

“Aveline promised to keep an eye on you, make sure the Coterie doesn’t harass you too much while I’m gone. Hawke wanted you to come too at first, but I convinced him it’d be better for you to stay here.”

_[Thanks.]_

Anders stepped into the clinic, checking around quickly to make sure there wasn’t anything in there that didn’t belong before turning back to Nathaniel.

_[Get on back to that pretty girl now. She likes you.]_

Nathaniel grinned and patted Anders on the shoulder gently. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you some more embrium for your salve so you have extra while I’m gone and some elfroot for potions in the morning okay?”

The mage nodded and smiled back. Nathaniel closed the door and locked it. Anders barred it behind him, he’d hear it if Nathaniel came back sometime later and wanted in. He sighed and went into the back room, feeling better now that he was in more familiar surroundings with no people wanting to ask him uncomfortable questions.

Some rest was definitely in order.


	4. Chapter 4

_“There are great injustices in this world, Nathaniel.”_

_“Yes, there are many unjust things.”_

_“We could do something about them. We could correct them.”_

_“How?”_

_“As you stated before, we could work together.”_

*

The Deep Roads in general had never bothered Nathaniel. He didn’t have the same fears and worries that Anders did, and enjoyed the close camaraderie of the group underground. At least until Bartrand betrayed them and they had to figure their own way out.

Luckily, he’d always had a pretty good sense of direction in the Deep Roads and they were able - with a little luck - to find their way back with only one hitch. They’d found a Demon of Hunger in the Thaig, and he’d felt an almost irrational anger well up in himself as Hawke spoke with it. When they’d killed the demon and he’d relaxed, Nathaniel had noted Varric looking at him shrewdly and he knew he would have to tell them at some point.

There had also been the revelation that innocent-seeming Merrill was a blood mage. Which also had brought up feelings of anger, which confused him. Velanna had been a blood mage as well, Wardens didn’t have the same view of blood magic that most others had, but there was the anger anyway. He found himself being sharper with her than he had been, and felt a surge of guilt at the hurt on her face.

Two months after leaving Kirkwall, they finally stumbled back in, carrying as much treasure as they could. Isabela, Fenris, and Merrill took their payments from Hawke and disappeared their separate ways, but Nathaniel wanted to see Bethany, and followed Varric and Hawke to Gamlen’s hovel.

There, they found Hawke’s mother in tears, relieved that Hawke was alive, but carrying news that the templars had come. Bethany was in the Gallows. The anger welled up again. She had hurt no one, she had done nothing. Her only crime had been her birth.

“Grumpy - you should go check on Blondie. If they found Sunshine then...” Varric pulled the rogue’s attention away from his anger for a moment. Nathaniel felt panic suddenly replace the wrath and he almost sprinted all the way to Darktown.

He’d left him alone for two months in a city full of templars with only Aveline’s assurance that she’d try to keep an eye out for him. She’d promised to keep an eye out for Bethany too, and now she was in the Gallows. Nathaniel knew Anders would not survive the Gallows. He wasn’t strong enough for a place like that anymore, not with all the things Nathaniel had heard about it.

The lamp was out and the door was broken. A lump rose in his throat as he pushed the door open to find the clinic in ruins. Cots were overturned, broken, and shredded; bottles broken all over the dirt floor; blankets, bandages, donations, everything was spread around and ripped apart.

“You lookin’ fer the ‘Ealer?”

Nathaniel spun around to see one of the vagrants that Anders would occasionally let sleep on a cot at night standing in the ruined doorway. He swallowed the lump and nodded.

“Them templars came through a few days ago. ‘E wasn’t ‘ere, so they broke ever’fing and left. That ginger lady came and took ‘im away before that. She prolly knows where ‘e is.”

“Thank the Maker for that,” Nathaniel muttered and closed his eyes, trying to relax. Anders was safe at least. He pulled a silver out of his pocket and handed it to the vagrant. “Get yourself something to eat. I know he was giving out food and you’ve probably missed some meals while he was gone.”

The vagrant smiled and nodded, thanking Nathaniel for the coin. He’d probably go spend it on alcohol at the Hanged Man, but Nathaniel hoped he’d at least get some mystery stew while he was there.

He trudged slowly up to Lowtown the panic dissipating a bit as he tried to plan. They would need somewhere to stay while the clinic was cleaned up again; though perhaps they should move the clinic somewhere else, now that the templars obviously knew where it was. He thought about Bethany again, of her pretty brown eyes and dark hair. Nathaniel frowned and remembered how Anders had been treated and how scared she had been of the Gallows. 

If those templars did anything to her he would-

“There it is again.”

Nathaniel startled and looked around to see Varric.

“Anders is okay I think. The templars ruined the clinic, but someone told me Aveline had come and taken Anders away beforehand. I was going up to Hightown to find out where he was.”

Varric pushed off of the wall he’d been leaning against and nodded as he fell into step beside Nathaniel. “Hawke’s trying to keep his mother calm. He’s going to petition the Viscount tomorrow with his money to get the estate back.”

“That’s good, at least he won’t have to stay in that muck-hole anymore.”

“Yeah...” He could feel Varric’s gaze on him, but he kept his face forward. “So you want to tell me about the glowing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Varric.”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Howe. I’m better at it than you are, though I must say your delivery is great - even I have a hard time keeping a straight face with some of the shit I make up.”

Nathaniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping briefly in a dark corner of Lowtown. The sun was going down and he was exhausted from traveling. He just wanted to find out where Anders was and then sleep for a few days.

“I’ve seen you glow four times now, Grumpy.” Varric began to tick off the instances on his fingers. “Once in the Chantry when we fought templars. When we met the demon in the Deep Roads. When you figured out Merrill was a blood mage; and just a few seconds ago on the stairs. I don’t know what you were thinking about, but it obviously made you angry. That’s when you tend to glow I’ve noticed.”

“Fine, yes, I glow when I’m angry,” Nathaniel snapped and looked around. There weren’t any people around them. Most of the market had closed already for the day and Hawke had cleaned out a lot of the gangs before they’d left for the Deep Roads.

“...And?”

“Look, when Anders and I were in the Wardens there was this one time in Blackmarsh-”

“Wait, there’s a place called Blackmarsh?”

“Yes, to the east of Amaranthine,” Nathaniel said, confused at the non-sequitur. 

“Who would willingly go somewhere called ‘Blackmarsh’?” Varric seemed incredulous, which made Nathaniel chuckle, relaxing a little.

“It’s actually a thriving little village now, but at the time it was a haunted swamp. At any rate, the Commander, myself and two others got pulled into the Fade there. The Veil was very thin, and when we came back, a Spirit of Justice was pulled out with us along with a Pride demon. We killed the demon, but Justice was stuck in a corpse. He couldn’t get back to the Fade,” Nathaniel explained, keeping his voice low. It was actually making him feel better to get it off his chest. He didn’t like indirectly deceiving their new friends, but not many people would probably take Spirit possession very well.

“After a year, the corpse was rotting and falling apart. He was a friend and deserved better - and the wife of the corpse deserved to bury her husband. So... I offered myself. As a willing host.”

“So... you’re an abomination?”

“Not... exactly,” Nathaniel said, wincing at the word. “He’s not a demon, we didn’t make a bargain or anything like that. We’re basically the same person, there isn’t like... a voice in my head or something that I talk to. I just... look at things somewhat differently than I used to.”

“And you glow.”

“Yes, and I glow sometimes.” Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t happen often. He wasn’t used to all the emotions that humans have after being a corpse. He knew about them, but they were sort of muted memories. With me, he can feel things, but I’ve always been pretty good at keeping a rein on my temper and such.”

Nathaniel chuckled softly. “I can’t imagine what he’d be like with someone like Anders. Someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. He’d probably go mad with overstimulation.”

Varric just nodded thoughtfully and gestured for them to continue through the city up to Hightown. They walked quietly for a few minutes, maneuvering through the winding streets of Lowtown to the stairs that led to the Hightown market.

“You’ll have to tell everyone, you know,” Varric said finally as they came to the Viscount’s square.

“I know. I was thinking about it before you wheedled it out of me.”

The dwarf chuckled, “I’m good at that... Be careful with Fenris though. He doesn’t care for possessed people, but you’re not a mage, so he may not kill you outright.”

“I’ll make sure Hawke is between us then,” Nathaniel said, trying not to shudder at the idea. Fenris’ fist in his chest was not a nice image. He’d had plenty of opportunity to observe the elf’s lethality while they’d been in the Deep Roads.

When they’d reached the doors to the Viscount’s Keep, the guards let them pass with a wave, Varric apparently well known to them. From there, the barracks weren’t far, and Varric knocked on the room Aveline had to herself as Captain.

Aveline opened the door in a jerkin and trousers, which was possibly the most relaxed he’d ever seen the red-head. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t ever seen her without full armour on.

“Someone in Darktown said you-”

She pulled Nathaniel into the room, cutting him off and waved Varric in after. She looked around the hallway quickly before closing the door behind them. Nathaniel found himself in a small room with a bed, fireplace, table, chair and bookshelf. It reminded him of a slightly smaller version of his room back at Vigil’s Keep.

“He’s with Lirene right now,” Aveline said, pulling his attention back to her. “They came looking for him in Darktown shortly after they picked up Bethany. They seemed to know about both of them. We only had a few minutes’ notice to get Anders out before they ripped the place apart.”

Nathaniel rubbed his face and sighed, his head starting to hurt. It was wrong. Bethany and Anders were not a danger to anyone. They were helping refugees and the poor. There was no reason to want to lock either of them up in the Gallows. No excuse. It was an injustice.

He felt someone nudge him from behind and he tried to relax and nodded to Aveline. “I appreciate the help, Guard Captain.”

“I think someone in the Gallows knows him,” Aveline put a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, frowning at him. “There was a description of him passed around my guards. I told them to leave him be, that it was Templar work, but I can’t guarantee they won’t give word to the templars if they see him.”

“We’re going to have to do something about that,” Varric murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“I checked on him this morning and he seemed alright, if bored.”

“He’ll have to stay there for now,” Nathaniel said, feeling the anger boiling up again. “I’ll send a message to him, only I don’t want anyone to find him by following me around.”

“I think I have an idea, Nate. Come back to the Hanged Man with me, I’ll get you a room for the night and we can talk about it.”

He was tired and sore and angry; and the idea of sleeping in a real bed for once was very tempting. Nathaniel relented, letting Varric drag him back to the Hanged Man, where the dwarf sent a runner out with a message for Lirene to pass along to Anders.

When Nathaniel finally fell asleep that night, he was feeling much better about their place in Kirkwall, and was thankful that Hawke had wandered into the clinic that day. Varric was an invaluable resource.

The next morning Nathaniel wasn’t so sure about that invaluable resource when he was given one of the ‘Wanted’ sketches of Anders. Varric dragged him to the Chantry where Anders was waiting with Aveline, and pushed him inside with the advice to ‘improvise’. The dwarf seemed to have a high regard for his ability to make things up on the spot.

“Hello Wardens. The Grand Cleric is expecting you,” one of the sisters said to him, and led them both further into the building. Truthfully, Nathaniel had not been in the Chantry since Karl’s death, and it made him a little uncomfortable walking under that huge statue of Andraste. Like she was staring at him. Judging him.

“Grand Cleric? These are the Wardens that wished to speak with you,” the woman said, bowing a little to an older woman before leaving them alone.

“Hello Wardens,” the older woman said, giving him a smile. “I am Grand Cleric Elthina.”

“Nathaniel Howe,” he said, finding his tongue after a moment. Improvise. Right. “This is Anders.”

Elthina looked to Anders, who nodded at her in greeting. Nathaniel suddenly remembered the paper Varric had given him and pulled it out. “We wanted to speak with you about this.”

She looked at the paper and then at Anders with a slight frown. “I see that the templars are looking for your friend here.”

Nathaniel straightened himself, feeling a bit more confident now that she was speaking, and being somewhat obtuse. “I have just returned from a Deep Roads expedition, surveying the entrances in this area to find these flyers everywhere. What is the meaning of this? He is a Warden and does not fall under templar jurisdiction.”

Elthina raised an eyebrow slightly, looking at Anders again, who kept her gaze passively. “I was not aware there were any Wardens in Kirkwall.”

“I was not aware that we were required to announce ourselves,” Nathaniel retorted, crumpling the paper and dropping it onto the floor between them. “If you need to be informed, then I will tell you that we were sent here by the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden some months back to watch the refugee population coming in from Ferelden. We were to keep an eye out for any signs of Blight sickness being spread, and to make a survey of all entrances and tunnels to the Deep Roads. This area isn’t well known since the nearest Warden outpost is in Ansburg and she felt it was prudent to learn as much as we could.”

“Just the two of you?” Elthina did not sound convinced.

“Are you questioning my orders, Grand Cleric? Orders that came from the Hero of Ferelden herself?”

She hesitated, and he knew he’d won. The lies had flowed so easily off his tongue, surprisingly; but he wanted this to be done with. “I shall make sure the Knight-Commander is aware of your Warden status. In future, it may be prudent for the Wardens to warn us if they will be bringing any mages into the city to avoid this happening again. How long will you be in the city?”

“Until we are recalled,” he responded simply. Nathaniel then inclined his head and Anders did the same before they both turned away from the older woman and swept out of the building.

“Maker, Varric if you ever make me do something like that again, I’ll poison your ale.”

“You think I’d actually notice a difference with the swill Corff sells?” Varric grinned at them as the doors closed behind them. Nathaniel snorted, but a smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

“She said she’d speak with the Knight-Commander.”

“Good, now to the Hanged Man to celebrate Blondie’s evasion of templars and for you to tell everyone about your abominable personality,” Varric said, gesturing for them to walk ahead of him.

“What’s this?” Aveline frowned, looking at the two wardens.

Nathaniel just sighed and winced slightly. “All will be explained at the Hanged Man, Guard-Captain. As long as Hawke is between Fenris and I.”

“I’ll make sure the elf isn’t within arms-reach,” Varric assured him.


	5. Chapter 5

_“What’s that noise?”_

_“Maker, are they being attacked?”_

_“What do we do?”_

_“Put the mage in there, he’ll be safer. We’ll guard the doors and hope the Wardens come soon.”_

*

_[Stop fussing and stay still!]_

“Stop waving your hands at me, mage, and just do what you have to!”

“He said to stay still, Fenris.”

“I don’t care what his stupid waving meant, just get this over with!”

Anders pursed his lips tightly, glaring at the elf on his table. It was ridiculous that after two years, the elf still refused to learn the signing language to communicate with him. He looked at Isabela, who shrugged, and then leaned into the warrior’s body, wrenching his shoulder back into place. Fenris snarled with pain that was probably worse than it had needed to be because he wouldn’t listen to orders, and laid down as Anders let him go.

_[I told you not to move.]_

The elf only scowled and rolled onto his unhurt side, which prompted Anders to send a wave of healing magic through the elf’s visible shoulder. He could see the warrior relax a little as the pain lessened and stepped back.

_[He’s so stupid.]_

“Yes, I know, but he appreciates the help, even if he pretends he doesn’t,” Isabela replied, ignoring the _‘pfaugh’_ sound the elf made from his spot. “You coming to the Hanged Man tonight?”

_[Maybe.]_

“You should, do you some good to get out of Darktown.”

_[And lose money to you?]_

“Well that does _me_ good,” she admitted with a grin. “Make Nate come too. Don’t let him run off to those cult meetings he goes to under the Gallows on Tuesday nights.”

Anders rolled his eyes, but smiled at her. _[You know what he and Justice are doing.]_

“Yeah, yeah, good of the world, saving things, bribing templars; I know. He needs some air though. Those tunnels can’t be good for him.”

He smiled and shook his head before shrugging. _[Tell him he has to stay here for now. I have to keep an eye on his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t any other damage.]_

“Hey handsome, Anders says you have to stay here so he can do terrible naughty things to you,” Isabela said, and squeaked when Anders smacked her shoulder.

Fenris sat up immediately, glowering over his shoulder at them. “I will do no such thing. I’m going back to my mansion.”

_[You mean your decrepit hole? No, he has to stay here, Isabela.]_

“You’re no fun,” she said, sticking her tongue out at the mage, who waggled his finger at her. “You have to stay here so he can keep an eye on your shoulder - and do naughty things to you.”

Isabela danced out of Anders’ reach that time, and cackled on her way out of the clinic. Anders turned away from the door to find the elf trying to pull himself into a sitting position with one arm.

“I am not staying here,” he said firmly and finally managed to swing his legs over the edge of the table.

_[Yes, you are. You need to stay and heal.]_

“Speak mage, I know you can, and I do not understand your idiotic gestures,” Fenris snapped, glaring at him for a moment.

“You need to sit and heal,” Anders croaked. He could see Fenris straining to hear him over the other Darktown noises, but finally scowled and stood up, holding his hurt arm to his chest.

“I can do that just fine at my mansion.”

“I can’t watch you there,” Anders replied, exasperated. He could feel his throat starting to tickle from the use and knew a coughing fit wasn’t far. He didn’t have the energy to argue with elf like this.

“You are not my master, mage. I will go where I please.”

“I am no-one’s master, but I am your Healer and you need to stay,” Anders managed to say before he began to cough. Fenris was still standing there when he stopped coughing, which surprised him. He had expected the elf to use the chance to escape.

“I suppose if I am attacked on my way back, I would not be able to defend myself,” Fenris said. Anders nodded and pointed to an empty, clean cot. Fenris reluctantly complied and laid down on the cot, rolling onto his unhurt side and closing his eyes.

He stayed there as directed, and Anders didn’t have to argue with him anymore for most of the day. Anders spent the time healing miners that came in after the cleaning job that Hawke had done earlier that day, where Fenris had dislocated his shoulder. He had also had a pregnant woman come in with contractions, but after a few hours she still hadn’t dilated and her water hadn’t broken. Anders sent her home again with something to help the pain and orders to come back if they started again.

Anders finally ran out of patients after dinner time, and stood at his desk, crushing herbs and mixing potions to replace the stock he’d passed out for the day when Nathaniel came in.

The rogue looked exhausted, dirty, and a little bloody; which made him frown and put his pestle down. Nathaniel waved him away though, and sat on an empty cot.

_[Are you alright?]_

“I’m fine, just scratched up. There were smugglers in the tunnels.”

“Why were you alone then?”

Nathaniel startled when Fenris sat up, looking at them both with a frown. Anders knew that the elf had avoided Nathaniel whenever possible after the revelation regarding Justice, and Nathaniel was usually wary where Fenris was concerned.

_[I should have told you he was here, sorry.]_

“I wasn’t exactly alone,” Nathaniel replied vaguely, nodding at Anders. Fenris didn’t seem to like the reply, and pursed his lips at Anders’ hands moving again. “He said he should have mentioned you were here, and he was sorry... Why haven’t you learned his signs, Fenris? Even Sandal understands them.”

“Because they are gibberish most of the time,” Fenris replied with a slight bristle. “I see him make signs that have no meaning at all. It is impossible to keep up with all of his stupidity.”

Anders and Nathaniel looked at each other, blinking and frowning. They both turned back to Fenris.

“Like what signs?”

Fenris thought for a moment before trying to mimic one of the signs he’d seen. Anders stared at him curiously as he closed his hand, fingers uncurled and flat against his palm and his thumb positioned to the side.

“That’s an ‘A’,” Nathaniel said.

“What?”

_[Spelling. He can’t keep up with my spelling?]_

“The letter ‘A’. There are not gestures for every word, so he spells a lot of them out.”

Anders watched Fenris’ cheeks flush darkly and he looked away from them. It occurred to Anders then why the elf got so frustrated with him.

_[Nathaniel, I don’t think he can read.]_

“Fenris, can you read?”

The elf’s head ducked lower, his eyes focused on the floor. “They do not teach slaves to read.”

_[You’re not a slave anymore.]_

“Anders is right. You’re not a slave anymore, Fenris. Do you want me to help you?”

“I do not want your pity!” Fenris snarled.

“It’s not pity. I can teach you to read. It’s a useful thing to know,” Nathaniel replied, ignoring the elf’s scathing tone.

The elf blinked and looked up at Nathaniel and then to Anders, who smiled at him and nodded. “You would... you would do that?”

Nathaniel smiled at the elf. “Yes of course. As long as you promise not to put your fist through my chest.”

Fenris snorted and a slight smile twitched at the edges of his lips. “I suppose I can control myself.”

“Let me get cleaned up and we can start right now,” Nathaniel said, standing up and stretching a little. “I doubt you’ll be going anywhere soon with your arm like that.”

Anders saw Fenris scowl a little and wince as he tried to move his arm. The mage went back to his desk and rustled around for a moment, finding some elfroot leaves he’d dried out for tea a few days ago and started heating water. By the time Nathaniel was done cleaning himself up and changing clothes, the tea was ready. Anders handed a cup to Nathaniel and then offered another to Fenris.

The mage tapped his own shoulder and made an exaggerated grimace, then mimed drinking the tea.

“It’ll help my shoulder?” Fenris asked, sniffing the mixture cautiously as Anders nodded. “Are you going to the Hanged Man tonight?”

“There a card night?” Nathaniel sat down across from Fenris with a book and his tea, glancing up at Anders.

“Yes, Isabela said that Anders should come and drag you along.” Anders shook his head and mimed sleeping. “You’re too tired?”

Anders nodded again and smiled before leaving the two alone. Nathaniel was opening the book and showing Fenris the letters and words, already describing what each was and the sounds they made. He cleaned the clinic, changed sheets, finished restocking his potions, and locked the door. It was quite late, but the two by the fire were still working well into the night. 

Anders fell asleep to the sound of both of their deep voices rumbling softly away.


	6. Chapter 6

_“You said once that you would consider me no demon if I were to give and not take. Do you still believe this?”_

_“Of course. Are you thinking of switching bodies?”_

_“I thought... perhaps that you...”_

_“I have thought of that as well.”_

_“Good.”_

*

“What are you doing down here?” Nathaniel whispered fiercely, pulling the dark-haired woman to the side. He glanced at her charges, two young mages; one bruised and beaten, the other pregnant and malnourished. He wished, not for the first time, that Anders could have come with him to help the mages with his healing magic.

“They wouldn’t go alone with Keran,” Bethany replied softly. She reached up and pushed a stray hair out of his face, trailing her fingers down his cheek. “It was an excuse to see you.”

Nathaniel sighed softly and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. As time went by he was feeling more and more divided about Bethany. He wanted to get her out of the Gallows, she was in danger there; but she was important to the Underground. She was the one that prepared the mages that needed to escape. She knew which templars were sympathetic to the cause and which were to be avoided. 

“You’re glowing again.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice and opened his eyes again, pulling away.

“Justice and I don’t agree about you.”

“Oh?”

He glanced over at the two young mages and the templar a little way behind, watching the path for others. There was no time to discuss it. There was never time. He stepped away from her and shifted his bow.

“I don’t like you being in that place, doing this.”

“You need me in there.”

“That’s what Justice says.” Nathaniel smiled ruefully and gestured to the two mages. “Do you have anything for your brother?”

Bethany closed the distance between them, giving him a folded piece of paper. She leaned up and brushed her lips against his briefly before stepping away again.

“Be careful.”

“I will.”

He took the torch from the sconce and glanced back only once before leading the two mages away from Bethany and Keran. The walk through the caves was uneventful, and he found his mind wandering more than once back toward her.

Only very rarely had they been able to see each other since she’d been taken to the Gallows. Mistress Selby had found a way to get a message out from her originally. One for Hawke and one for him. They’d only known each other a few months before the templars had taken her to the Gallows, and despite Hawke’s glares and intimidating big-brother act, they’d gotten along fairly well. 

The notes had gone back and forth for almost a year before he got to see her again. By then the Knight-Commander had started to tighten her grip on the mages in the Gallows even more. Taking away their staffs and grimoires, limiting their access to the library. It had been Bethany that had sent him a note asking to see him in the caverns under the Gallows. Mistress Selby arranged everything and he’d found himself under the Gallows in lyrium smuggler caves that had originally been tunnels for slaves to go from the tower to the mines without having to traverse the channel.

Bethany had been the one to suggest helping the mages escape. She told him about some of the more violent templars, about the suicides, the constant hunt for blood magic that wasn’t there. The meeting had ended more passionately than Nathaniel had planned; pillowed on cloaks over rough dirt and stone earth was not how he would have wanted it to go, but the memory helped to remind him why he continued to do this.

It was unjust yes, that was why Justice helped; why Justice encouraged Anders to write down his personal experiences in the Circle; why Nathaniel found himself awake at three o’clock in the morning studying the Chant of Light. Nathaniel helped because he didn’t want to see anyone else hurt the way Anders had been hurt. He wanted to live in a world where he and Bethany didn’t have to hide in tunnels and pass notes. Where the baby that the girl behind him was carrying wouldn’t be taken away and raised to hate itself if it had magic or its mother if it didn’t.

“M-Messere?”

Nathaniel blinked and stopped, realising he’d started to glow again. It happened more and more when he thought about these things. His temper was getting harder to control as time went by and more injustices were committed that he couldn’t stop.

“We’re almost there,” he said roughly and began to move forward once more. Nathaniel glanced over his shoulder at the two mages. They were barely adults, more like children, so frightened.

“We’re going to the Wounded Coast,” he told them, hoping that talking might help assuage their fears. “There will be someone waiting there for you. They’ll take you further down the coast to a cove where a ship will be waiting. They are going to take you to Ferelden.”

“Why Ferelden, Messere?” the boy asked, causing Nathaniel to smile.

“They treat mages better there,” he replied. “And there is a group there called the Mages’ Collective. They’re apostates that police themselves against blood magic.”

He put his hand out to stop them and gestured for them to be quiet. They were near the end of the cavern. “Don’t move. I’m going to make sure it’s okay.”

The two mages nodded and he could see the terror on their faces as he handed the boy the torch and went forward without them. The Underground was very careful about who it hired to take the mages across the Waking Sea, but slavers had tricked them before. Nathaniel was in no mood to kill half a dozen people tonight.

He moved through the shadows up to the mouth of the cave and watched his contact for a minute. The area around the mouth of the cave seemed to be clear of any archers or swordsmen. Nathaniel stepped from the shadows and waited for the other person to notice him. 

“Maker, you’re a quiet bastard,” a gruff voice said. He saw teeth flash in the dark against a scruffy face. “Where’s the cargo?”

“In the cave. I wanted to make sure it was clear,” Nathaniel replied and gestured for the man to follow him.

When they reached the two mages Nathaniel saw a clear look of sympathy cross the man’s face and he relaxed. They would be in good hands.

“I bet you two are hungry,” the man said, and pulled out a small wrapped package with some bread. “It isn’t much, but I hope it helps.”

The two devoured the bread eagerly, seeming to relax at the man’s kindness. He waited until they were done eating and then took the torch from the boy, handing it to Nathaniel.

“Let’s get you two down to the ship. May have time for you to take a sea bath before we leave. You ever have a bath in the ocean?” They shook their heads. “Best kind.”

Nathaniel stopped him briefly as they turned to leave. “If you come back this way often, talk to Mistress Selby in the Docks. We may have more cargo if you’re interested.”

The man nodded and gestured for the children to go ahead of him. “I’ve a son in the Circle in Cumberland. They’re not so bad there, but those Tranquil wandering the docks of the Gallows...” He shook his head and gave Nathaniel a brief salute before disappearing into the darkness and the coast with the two mages.

Selby had chosen well this time. Men like that were hard to find, especially ones that had ships. Most captains were more interested in profit than in helping people, and it was hard to find someone that wouldn’t redirect their ship to Alamar and sell their cargo off instead of delivering them properly.

He waited a while longer, listening to the distant sound of the ocean. It would be dawn soon and he had promised more reading lessons to Fenris. Nathaniel turned away from cave exit and back into the depths of the network that would lead him back to Darktown.

Two was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that.

The return to Darktown was uneventful, and by the time he’d gotten to the clinic, Anders was just opening for the morning. Nathaniel went to the back and immediately fell asleep.

He awoke a few hours later, surprised that he’d slept so long. Nathaniel climbed out of his cot, worried that Fenris had come and gone for his reading lessons. He splashed his face with some water and came into the main clinic to find Anders crushing herbs and Fenris sitting at the desk with his tongue poking out and a quill in his hand. Apparently the mage had allowed him to sleep and set Fenris onto writing his letters.

The elf had been learning quickly, in only a few weeks he had already started reading simple books. Nathaniel supposed one good thing that had come out of Fenris’ past was that he only needed to be shown something once before he picked it up. Anders had to spell slower for the elf when they spoke, but Fenris seemed a lot less frustrated with the mage.

Nathaniel stretched and smiled at Anders when the mage looked up from his potion making. “Thank you for letting me sleep.”

Anders shrugged and smiled back. Fenris looked up from the desk in annoyance, frowning at Nathaniel. The rogue noticed the frustrated markings on the parchment and reached over Fenris, adjusting the quill in the elf’s hand slightly.

“That might be more comfortable. They don’t have to look exactly the same as how Anders or I write them. No two people have the same style of handwriting, so don’t get too frustrated,” Nathaniel assured him. The door to the clinic opened then, and Hawke came in, followed by his mabari.

“Hey, well this makes things simple. I was going to talk to all three of you, and here you are!” Hawke grinned at them and Nathaniel noticed both Fenris and Anders raise suspicious eyebrows at the warrior.

“What can we do for you then?”

“You remember that Dalish boy? The mage we helped a few years back?”

“I do,” Fenris replied after a blank look from both Nathaniel and Anders greeted Hawke.

“Well, I sort of promised his mother to help again. The Keeper is coming to the Alienage to do a ritual,” Hawke started, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the clinic. Nathaniel crossed his arms and also raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“What kind of ritual?”

“Um... well... he’s sort of... asleep, I guess. Stuck in the Fade. The Keeper knows a way to send people into the Fade to help him,” Hawke replied, his grin looking more nervous by the second. “I thought - who better to go with me than a Spirit of Justice possessed rogue, a lyrium-laced elf, and a mage?”

_[Why can’t Merrill go?]_

“Because she and her Keeper do not get along,” Fenris replied for Hawke and stood up. “I do not like this, but I will go if you insist.”

Hawke looked relieved, which prompted Anders to agree as well. Nathaniel finally conceded reluctantly in the end. He hadn’t been in the Fade since the day he’d met Justice, and he wasn’t sure exactly what would happen.

The trip to the Alienage was short after they locked up the clinic. The Dalish woman was waiting anxiously for them and shortly after another woman arrived. She was smaller and older, but the entire Alienage seemed to stop to look at her. Nathaniel watched her with interest as she moved gracefully to the vhenadahl tree and touched it gently. When she turned back to them, she was smiling slightly, but it was a little obvious to Nathaniel she was feeling overwhelmed. He’d seen Velanna act the same way the first time she’d been taken into Amaranthine by the Warden Commander.

Hawke herded them all into the small house where the younger woman lived. The ritual didn’t seem to take very long to set up and Nathaniel found himself feeling excited. 

When he opened his eyes again he was in the familiar yellow light of the Fade.

“Nathaniel, you’re glowing.”

“I am Justice. Nathaniel has told you of me,” was the reply. He took a deep breath and smiled. “It feels good to have the wind of the Fade on my face again. I had not thought to return this way.”

Hawke seemed startled and opened his mouth to ask questions, but he was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“This is not normal for the Fade,” it said. It was a gentle, tenor voice; though it seemed like there was a bit of a bite hiding just under the surface. Their heads all turned to Anders, who had his hand pressed against one of the pillars.

“Anders?” Hawke sounded tentative, frowning slightly. He seemed to be feeling a little overwhelmed. Anders turned to them and smiled slightly.

“It’s the Fade, there’s no body here to be damaged,” he replied simply and pointed ahead to a door. “This looks like the Gallows, doesn’t it?”

“The Keeper said something about Feynriel being a Dreamer. The word in Tevinter was... um...” Hawke frowned as they moved cautiously toward the door. “Sommneeree?”

“Somniari?” Fenris asked.

“Yeah, that.”

“They’re mages that can shape the Fade,” Fenris replied. “Danarius spoke of one once. They are very rare and very powerful.”

“There is something coming,” Justice interrupted as they opened the door onto a large stone courtyard with a set of stairs on each side.

In the center of the courtyard a Shade materialised and waited patiently for them. Fenris was already drawing his sword, but Hawke put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back for a moment.

“What do you want, demon?”

“I wish to make a deal with you for the boy.”

“It is a demon of Sloth,” Justice snarled. “You should kill it and be done with it.”

The demon seemed to sigh. “I wish for you to kill the other demons here, and I will give you any power you desire to let me take the boy’s mind and leave.”

“What other demons?” Hawke asked, narrowing his eyes and glancing at the doors at the top of each set of stairs.

“A demon of pride and a demon of desire vie for the boy,” Sloth told them. “Will you deal?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hawke replied, drawing his own sword. Justice was relieved and nocked an arrow in Nathaniel’s bow, pointing it at the demon.

The battle was short, but intense after the demon summoned more shades to help it. Justice immediately turned to Anders, worried that the battle would have been too much for the mage. Anders smiled at him, not even winded. He glanced at Fenris and smiled at the elf as well, the silver-haired warrior seeming to have had the same thought as Justice.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me while we’re here. We need to save the boy,” Anders said, pointing at one of the doors. They followed Hawke up the stairs to the first door and found themselves in a small courtyard full of elves.

Justice found that he couldn’t move anymore, and that Hawke appeared to have taken the visage of First Enchanter Orsino. He and the others appeared to be silent observers as the boy was being presented accolades by the Keeper. The appearance of Orsino seemed to throw the boy though, and he didn’t seem so sure of what was going on around him anymore.

The demon seemed to grow frustrated as the boy suddenly became evasive and showed itself to be Pride, growing from the face of the Keeper. Feynriel turned and ran away, disappearing through a wall, leaving the four companions standing before the demon, free to move again.

“You are foolish to come here and take my prey,” the demon rumbled, looking around the four of them. When it glanced at Justice, the Spirit could feel the disgust rolling off the demon at his presence and he smiled wickedly at it. It feared him, as it should.

“He wouldn’t want to join you anyway, I mean, look at you,” Hawke said, wrinkling his nose. Justice pinched the bridge of his nose, mimicking a gestured Nathaniel often used in Hawke’s presence. The warrior seemed not to understand the meaning of ‘inappropriate’.

“What about you, warrior? I could give you the power to get your sister back. To keep your mother safe. To rule the city and teach the nobility-”

“Begone, demon. No one here will deal with you,” Anders said, waving his hand at the monstrosity. Hawke seemed to hesitate, thinking about what the demon had said for a moment before he seemed to steel himself and shake his head.

“The mage is right.”

“Is he? What about the elf?”

Justice looked at Fenris, who was clenching his fists at his side tightly and looking at the ground.

“I could give you the power to kill your master, elf,” the demon wheedled.

“He already has the power,” Anders retorted. “He doesn’t need you for that.”

Fenris seemed to relax at Anders words and he looked up from the ground. “I will not deal with you, demon.”

“And you, brother? You save these mortals from their own follies, let me have the boy - or one of these, and I will help you. The two of us together would be much more powerful,” the demon said, looking at Justice with interest.

“I am not your brother, demon,” he snarled. Justice pulled the bow from his back and arrow from his quiver; firing it at the demon, he closed all other negotiations. 

The battle was much more difficult than their earlier fight with the Sloth demon. Justice’s anger at the demon’s words carried him through the battle, firing spirit energy enhanced arrow after arrow at the enemy and his minions. He was not a demon. They were not brothers. He gave without taking. He was a force of good. He was Justice.

A hand on his arm finally stopped him from firing more arrows. He blinked and looked to see Anders frowning at him.

“Let’s go, Justice. There’s one more demon here.”

He nodded and put the arrow in his hand back into his quiver and re-slung the bow on his back as he followed the others out of the room. Here, the courtyard was full of Rage demons that were attracted by the boy’s power and the battles going on. They were easily dispatched, but Justice could see Anders starting to look tired. He hoped this boy was worth all the trouble.

The Desire demon seemed to be playing on the boy’s wish for his family to be together when they entered. It was the same as before, Hawke taking on the identity of the boy’s mother, while the rest couldn’t move or speak.

Again, the boy figured out what was going on and ran off through a wall when the Desire demon showed itself.

It sighed in frustration and moved toward them, seeming to ignore Justice for now, it focused on Hawke first. Smiling and running a clawed hand over its breasts, it hummed at him.

“So much desire to choose from,” it said, practically purring. “The ginger warrior or the sable pirate? Power to free your sister?” 

Justice saw Hawke pale a little as the demon walked around him, changing its form from Aveline to Isabela and finally to Bethany.

“Or perhaps you, brother. I can feel the desire your host has for this form,” it said, walking up to him and brushing his face lightly with Bethany’s fingers. Justice turned his face away and closed his eyes.

“Begone.”

It laughed with Bethany’s voice and moved away as Hawke made a swipe at it. “What about you, mage? You desire your voice back. You desire to punish your oppressors.”

Justice opened his eyes at the angry noise Anders made, and saw that the demon had taken the form of Warden Rolan in full templar armour except for his helmet. It advanced on Anders, who scrambled backward, hitting his back against one of the pillars in the room. He moved to intercept the demon, but Fenris was there first, snarling with sword drawn between the templar-demon and Anders.

The demon danced backward again with another laugh, and took on Anders’ form. “And you, elf? This is what you desire isn’t it? I could give you the power to make sure no one ever hurts him again.”

Justice could see the flush spreading across Fenris’ face, the embarrassment, shame and finally anger at having something private paraded before the group. He roared angrily, brands lighting brightly as he rushed toward the demon.

The anger from the group at their desires being displayed so blatantly before the others made the battle go much more quickly. A paralysis glyph and a slice from Hawke’s two-handed sword ended it.

“There had better not be any more demons,” Anders said as he moved to each of them, checking for wounds.

“Let’s get this over with. I’m so done with the Fade,” Hawke said as he stalked back into the courtyard. There they found Feynriel standing alone.

“I’m not sure if this is real, but if it is, this is the second time I owe you my life,” Feynriel said as they approached. He seemed calmer, his voice more full of awe than fear.

“The Fade feels different now. I see the stitches and seams holding it together. I feel like I could wake up at any moment.”

“Keeper Marethari said you were a Dreamer,” Hawke explained. “Dreamers can control the Fade and the dreams of people in it.”

“I see now why the Chantry fears us. I remember hearing stories about magisters who stalked the dreams of their enemies and killed them. I need to master this. To study under someone, but the Dalish don’t have what I need...”

“Tevinter,” Anders said softly. Nathaniel frowned and noted that Fenris did as well. “It is the only place that would have people who could teach you.”

“My mother would not look kindly on such a journey,” Feynriel replied with a slight frown. He glanced up at them, focusing on Hawke. “Would you give her my farewell?”

“I will tell her,” Hawke agreed with a slight nod. “Be careful.”

Feynriel brightened and smiled at them. “Thank you.” The young man turned away then, shaking his wrist and looking around. 

“I can do this,” he murmured softly before raising his hand. Nathaniel winced in the light as it surrounded Feynriel, and opened his eyes. He found himself lying on a thin mat on the floor of the elven hovel they’d entered earlier. Suddenly, he was exhausted again and didn’t want to deal with Hawke after everything the Desire demon had revealed.

Feynriel’s mother seemed relieved that the boy was alright, but disappointed when Hawke told her he was going to Tevinter to be trained. Nathaniel took the opportunity to grab Anders and leave, not wanting to give Hawke the chance to corner him.


	7. Chapter 7

_“I envoke the Right of Conscription.”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous, he can’t even speak properly, what sort of Warden would he make?”_

_“Are you denying my Right?”_

_“As Queen, I recognise the Right. We should be going.”_

_“But Your Majesty! He cannot-”_

_“Ser Rylock, he has been conscripted. He is no longer your problem.”_

*

The weeks had moved by quickly for Anders after they’d come out of the Fade. Nathaniel had dragged him off immediately, not waiting around to see what Hawke would say or do. Fenris was avoiding him like a plague; having apparently gone to Varric to continue his reading and writing lessons rather than come down where he might have to be in the same room as Anders.

The demon’s revelation of Fenris having some sort of feelings for him was a surprise to say the least. The elf seemed so angry with him all the time. He knew some of it had been frustration at their inability to communicate with each other, and he felt like they had been getting along slightly better since Fenris had been learning to read, but now...

He sighed, looking at the sheet in his hands blankly. He was not going to be able to focus at all this evening, he could tell.

Hawke had come by the day after and apologised to both of them, though Nathaniel managed to avoid any conversations about Bethany. Then the Bone Pit had problems again, and Anders was up to his neck in miners for almost a week. 

Anders had little time to sit and think deeply about what had happened. Now, he had nothing to do but think, and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to talk to Fenris about it. He wanted to know what it meant, and why Fenris had been standing outside their door all these years, keeping Coterie and slavers away when Nathaniel was gone.

He hadn’t had anyone in his bed, or been in anyone else’s bed since before he’d been put in solitary. It’d been close to five years now, and while the idea was nice it also scared him a bit. He couldn’t function like a normal person by himself, how could he do it with someone who might want to be physical with him? He had to cook his food until it was practically mush, and still had to eat slowly and carefully, otherwise his food could get caught in his windpipe and he’d choke. Anders never ate by himself, he always waited until someone else was there, someone who knew of his issues. 

He had to wear a cloth over his face whenever seeing people who were ill, just in case. Anders could not afford to catch something, he had enough problems breathing without adding snot and sneezing to the mix. At the Keep there had been no lack of interest, quite a few of the guards and soldiers of both genders had shown interest, and once upon a time Anders would have cheerfully obliged them.

Fenris was different though, and Anders didn’t want to ruin the tenuous peace they had created, but at the moment it seemed ruined already. He sighed and put down the sheet he’d been folding and re-folding for the past twenty minutes. There were no patients and Nathaniel was off doing Underground Mage things. He picked up his staff and put out the clinic light before locking the door behind him. He just needed to talk to the elf. Then perhaps they could sort this out.

He trudged up the stairs from Darktown, and through Lowtown and up into Hightown. He knew that the elf lived near the Chantry, sort of off to the side, but didn’t know exactly which house. From descriptions, however, he was pretty sure he could figure it out by looking.

It was pretty obvious when he got into the neighbourhood. The house with the broken roof, weeds, and dirty windows was a safe guess. Anders ignored the strange looks he got from the people wandering the streets in the diminishing light of the day and knocked on the door as hard as he could.

No one answered, but he could hear something through a broken window, moving around, so Fenris was probably home. He pushed on the door and finding it unlocked, he entered; closing it carefully behind himself.

“Who’s there?” He heard Fenris calling from another room and moved through the foyer into the main hall. Anders raised an eyebrow at the skeletons and covered his nose as he walked toward the staircase, where he could see Fenris leaning against the balustrade.

“What are you doing here, mage?” 

Anders looked up at him, seeing the discomfort and nervousness on the elf’s face.

_[I wanted to talk to you.]_

Fenris frowned, watching his hands as he signed slowly, making sure the elf got his meaning. Fenris rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, thinking for a moment before gesturing for Anders to come up the stairs. The mage climbed the staircase carefully and followed Fenris into the master bedroom. 

It was cozy and clean, not like the rest of the house. There was a table and some chairs, the fireplace was lit and there were benches nearby. Fenris had scavenged some carpets from other rooms to cover the stone floors and some wooden planks were mostly covering a hole in the ceiling, probably to keep rain and snow out. In the corner there was a mattress with blankets and pillows made into a nest of sorts. 

Anders leaned his staff against the wall, next to where Fenris’ sword was hanging, and removed his coat, putting it on the back of the chair that the elf had indicated for him. He sat down and Fenris sat across from him, lips pursed and eyes on the fire.

Anders tapped the table so that Fenris would look at him. _[We can’t speak if you aren’t looking at me.]_

Fenris snorted and leaned back his chair, giving Anders his reluctant attention. “What did you want to speak about?”

_[What happened in the Fade. You’ve been avoiding me.]_

Fenris flushed when he’d translated what Anders was saying and looked away for a moment. “What do you want me to say? Did you come to mock me? Running from one mage to latching onto another?”

He could hear the bitterness in Fenris’ remarks and shook his head, tapping the table for the elf’s attention again. _[I know almost nothing of your past, Fenris. Nathaniel told me that you were a slave and that you lived in Tevinter. This is really all I know of you. I know you couldn’t read, and that you dislike blood magic, and you don’t seem to like mages much, despite how you treat me.]_

The elf frowned, trying to keep up with Anders’ gestures before making an annoyed sound and looking away again. “I was a slave to a Magister in Tevinter. Danarius is his name. His bodyguard, his pet, his prize... whatever he wished of me, I did, and I did it happily. He did this to me.”

Fenris raised his hands, showing the markings that wrapped around his arms. Anders had never seen Fenris without his armour on before, and noted now that the marks showed through the dark material of Fenris’ shirt and breeches. They were everywhere.

_[So they really are lyrium?]_

“Yes. It was very painful. My earliest memory is the pain when they were seared into my skin. I don’t remember how old I was, I don’t remember if I had a family, friends, nothing before that moment. I was a clean slate for the Magister to do with as he pleased. In Tevinter, blood magic is everywhere. It’s how the Magisters keep their positions. They deal with demons to become more and more powerful, using the blood of slaves to fuel their ambitions.”

Anders could see the rage building up as Fenris spoke of his previous home and master. He reached out, touching the elf’s leg gently, bringing him back to the moment. _[Why did you stand outside the clinic? Were you watching me?]_

He breathed out slowly, calming himself as he seemed to consider Anders’ questions. “At first... I didn’t trust you. Bethany was the first mage I had met outside of Tevinter that wasn’t in a Circle, and you were the second. Bethany had her family to watch her and keep her away from demons, and you only had Nathaniel. I didn’t trust Nathaniel either, not after seeing him glow in the Chantry. I could feel the Demon pulling at the lyrium in my skin.”

_[Spirit. So you didn’t trust me?]_

Fenris nodded. “I came to watch you, to find something to take back to Hawke; possibly to take to the templars,” Fenris explained, and flushed a little at the confession. 

“As time went by, I began to worry about you being alone. I saw the people come in full of fear and worry for their loved ones and leave happy and healed. I saw you refusing payments from the poor, overcharging the rich, and then handing that money right back to the poor again. I saw you work yourself into exhaustion trying to save people and I remembered the trouble you had breathing after the battle in the Chantry... I worried while Nathaniel was gone that the Coterie would bother you, or slavers, or other bandits, and that you’d be helpless.”

Anders smiled slightly and tapped Fenris’ leg again. _[Thank you. Knowing you were out there when Nathaniel was gone did make me feel safer, even if I wasn’t sure why you were there.]_

“Does it hurt?” Fenris asked, gesturing to his own throat.

_[Sometimes. When I swallow. It mostly just feels... irritated. Like the tickle before a cough.]_

“How long have you been like that? You told Bethany you weren’t born that way and the scars... on your throat. The demon in the Fade said you desired your voice back, and you could speak in the Fade.”

Anders looked away then, frowning slightly and shifting in his seat. Even after all this time in Hawke’s company he had not told them what had happened, and no one had asked again after that first time Isabela did at the Hanged Man so many years ago now.

 _[I was wild when I lived in the Circle. I’d been brought there as an older child, almost thirteen. I remembered the things the others didn’t; my family and freedom. So I kept trying to escape. I’ve never liked confined spaces, they make me anxious, and the Circle is just one big confined space.]_ Anders smiled wryly and looked up at Fenris again, making sure the elf was following him. He was trying to keep a slow pace with his gestures, but he caught himself speeding up a few times and didn’t want to lose the elf.

_[They didn’t want to brand me. I’m a Spirit Healer and they’re rare enough without the templars making me Tranquil, so the First Enchanter kept interceding on my behalf and I’d get other punishments. Chores, confinement, lashes, that sort of thing. After the sixth escape attempt, I was put into solitary confinement in the dungeons. I was down there for a year.]_

“A whole year?” Fenris sounded surprised. “And you were afraid of small spaces?”

Anders nodded and took a slow, deep breath as he remembered it. _[Mostly I was just ignored. The templars guarded me, didn’t speak to me, didn’t acknowledge me except to give me food and water twice a day. There was one templar though, after the first few months that I found I could rile into responding to me. Anything was better than nothing. Eventually I got him to snap and he’d come in and kick me around. He never did anything permanent, didn’t want the other templars to know, but I remember begging for it. Thanking the Maker for the pain and bruises that reminded me that I was still alive. I used to keep poking at my bruises for days afterward, relishing the pain.]_

The mage stopped and looked at Fenris, feeling stupid as he realised he’d lost the elf somewhere in his monologue. Slowly and softly, Anders repeated everything he’d tried to say with his hands. His voice was rough and cracked and he was painfully aware that he sounded nothing like how he had in the Fade and that he probably never would again.

“The Circle... had a problem during the Blight,” he explained. Fenris stood and looked around for something for Anders to drink. He only had a bottle of wine and offered it to Anders, who waved it away - the alcohol would only burn on the way down and make it worse. He could see the elf was frustrated at his inability to keep up with the signs and smiled slightly. The elf’s worry was palpable and it was somewhat endearing.

“Demons, blood mages. I was... still in solitary.”

“Varric told this story - the Warden saved the tower from its abominations and got a promise from the First Enchanter for help to fight the darkspawn?” Fenris said, frowning as Anders nodded.

“I was scared to be alone. Afraid of the demons. Mouthed off to the templar. He came in. Said I talked too much.” Anders put a hand on his throat, demonstrating how the templar had grabbed him, his fingers lining up with the scars on his throat fairly closely. “Squeezed. Heard a pop. Lots of blood from gauntlet edges digging in.”

He ran a finger idly down one of the lines in his stubble, staring blankly at the table as he remembered it. “Left me there. Ran away. Had silenced me. Room had runes too. To prevent magic. Mages found me a day, maybe two, later. Too late to heal properly.”

Anders blinked and raised his eyes again to Fenris. The elf was sitting stiffly in the chair across from him, his hands clenched tightly into fists and his face trying to keep his anger in check. Anders frowned and reached out, touching Fenris’ arm lightly to get the elf’s attention.

_[He’s dead now.]_

Fenris seemed to relax a little at that and shook his head. “I always thought that the Circle mages are lucky. They are fed three times a day, given an education, protected from those who would harm them outside the Circle, and protected from themselves and their own powers inside the Circle. It had to be better than what went on in Tevinter.”

_[It... has its problems. You were fed and clothed, weren’t you? Taught how to use a sword and had a job?]_

“Yes, but that isn’t-”

_[How is it different? We had to do what our jailors told us, no matter what it was. They had complete power over us. We’re taught from the moment that we arrive that we are cursed. Worthless. That no one wants us and we’d be better off dead. Many take that to heart. I’d seen over a dozen suicides by the time I’d finally got away for good.]_

Anders sighed in frustration, knowing he’d lost the elf again, getting too passionate about the subject and speeding up. He wanted Fenris to understand though. He wanted the elf to know that not all mages were Magisters and that outside of Tevinter, being a mage was a lot more like slavery than Fenris seemed to think.

_[Nathaniel and Justice are writing a pamphlet. It’s about the Chant of Light and mages. They asked me to write about things I’d seen in the Circle, about experiences I knew had happened. When it’s done, will you promise me you will read it?]_

Fenris looked skeptical after he had translated what Anders had said this time before finally nodding. “I promise.”

The promise made Anders relax a little and he smiled. _[Now tell me why there are still bodies in the foyer?]_

The elf coughed and looked slightly embarrassed, but shrugged. “They discourage looters and squatters.”

The irony of this did not escape Anders, and he tried to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape. Instead he managed to send himself into a coughing fit, doubling over in his chair as he alternately chuckled and coughed. After a moment, he managed to calm himself again and send a little bit of healing magic into his throat and chest to relieve the inflammation. When he could breathe easier, he looked up to see Fenris had moved to the floor directly in front of him and had a worried look on his face.

His cheeks flushed as Anders looked at him, but Fenris didn’t move from his spot. Anders wasn’t sure how long they just stared at each other. He took the opportunity to study Fenris’ face. He noted the bump in the elf’s nose - telltale sign of it having been broken at some point and not healing properly. He noticed the long eyelashes framing green eyes - he was pretty sure Merrill’s eyes were larger, but he was surprised at how large Fenris’ eyes were when he wasn’t scowling at things. The black eyebrows and the white hair - he wondered if Fenris’ hair used to be all black at some point.

Impulsively, Anders reached forward and ran a finger over the lines on Fenris’ chin. The edges were raised, like scars, and it tingled where his fingers touched the lyrium. He saw Fenris flinch and pulled his hand away quickly.

“Sorry,” he whispered and straightened in his seat. _[I should get back to the clinic. It’s getting late.]_

Fenris stood and looked toward the dirty window at the back of the room. It was dark outside and the elf frowned again. “You should not go back alone. It’s too late and it will be dangerous.”

 _[It would be pointless for you to walk me all the way to Darktown and back again by yourself.]_ Anders stood as well, stretching and picking up his coat.

“You...” Fenris shifted his weight and looked at the floor as he spoke, “could stay here. I mean, there’s plenty of rooms and then you could go back in the morning when it’s safer.”

Anders hesitated a moment, thinking about the offer. It was a long walk back, and while the templars had been leaving him alone thanks to the meeting with Elthina those handful of years ago, there were still gangs and thugs running around the streets at night and he really couldn’t fight off anyone that got too insistent by himself.

“You can sleep in my bed - I’ll sleep in the chair. I fall asleep there regularly,” Fenris added. Anders glanced at the nest he’d seen earlier and thought seriously about it. It looked a lot more comfortable than the hard cot he slept on back in the clinic. Warmer too. 

He gnaws on his lower lip as he thought, glancing from the chair by the fire where Fenris would sleep to the bed and then to the elf. Finally he nodded assent. 

Fenris relaxed and smiled in seeming relief. After that, he disappeared downstairs for a bit and returned with some food and a pitcher of water. They ate together and spoke a little more about Fenris’ travels from Tevinter to Kirkwall, and how Fenris had met Hawke. Then Anders’ boots were removed and he was wrapped into the blankets (save one that Fenris took for himself by the fire) on the mattress and fell asleep more comfortable and warm than he had been in some time.

When he woke it took him a moment to remember where he was. Anders sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking around. Fenris appeared to be gone, but there was food on the table. He stretched, having slept soundly for the first time in years, and climbed out of the make-shift bed. On the table he found some bread and the pitcher of water from the evening before, as well as some cheese. There was a very carefully written note from Fenris saying that Hawke had been by and he’d gone to Sundermount. Anders smiled slightly and sat down, eating what was left of the food on the table before gathering it up. He decided to put it back into the pantry (if he could find it) so it wouldn’t go to waste.

First, Anders made sure the fire was out in the fireplace before he closed the door to Fenris’ room behind him and looked around. He chose the most likely door and went through it. The rest of the house was very dusty, and damp in places. There were mushrooms and plants growing under the holes in the roof. He found a small dining room, a parlour, and finally the kitchen. The kitchen looked cleaner and used, obviously Fenris came in here often. He put the bread and cheese away before poking through the other doors. A storage room and a staircase that probably led to the wine cellar.

He made his way back to the main hall and looked curiously at the other set of doors. After a brief internal struggle as to whether or not he should be prying, Anders went through them. Another parlour, a library - though most of the books were gone or too mouldy to be useful, a bedroom, and another storeroom. Finally he wandered into a huge bathing chamber. It was being used as well, as the cleanliness of the porcelain proved. The tub was built into the floor and was large enough for four people at least. There appeared to be a pump attached to some sort of heating apparatus. Anders remembered seeing one in a bathing chamber at Vigil’s Keep. Some dwarven machine was used to heat the water before it went into the tub. There was a pile of wood nearby for just that use.

The temptation to use the bathing chamber was immense, but he didn’t want to do it without Fenris’ permission and he knew he should get back to the clinic. He went back up to Fenris’ room and collected his coat. He wrote a short ‘Thank you’ on the back of Fenris’ note and left it where the elf would find it before leaving. He made sure the doors were all closed firmly before he made his way back through Hightown and down in the depths of the city.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art Piece by Chenria! The art is no longer loading from Deviant Art, so the piece that goes with this chapter can be found at: http://chenria.deviantart.com/art/DABB-Anders-and-Fenris-351480155

_“We knew you would come looking, Anders.”_

_“He didn’t come looking. I did.”_

_“Hand over the murderer, Warden.”_

_“Over my dead body, Rylock.”_

_“As you say.”_

*

It was getting difficult to concentrate on his patients. Anders took a deep breath and focused on the wound in front of him. The woman had gotten into a fight with a dog over a scrap of food and had come out the worse. It had been almost three days since he’d seen Fenris and he was getting worried.

Nathaniel had come home the night he’d returned to the clinic looking a little worse for wear. He’d told Anders they’d run into slavers on Sundermount and they’d been looking for Fenris. It had led them to an old slaver hold on the coast where they’d found a blood mage named Hadriana. She had apparently been someone Fenris knew and she’d said some things to the elf before he killed her and disappeared.

He hadn’t shown up at Card Night, and no one there had seen him in a while either. Hawke and Varric had even checked the mansion, but they said he wasn’t there. If he didn’t show up again tomorrow, Anders was going to go looking for him.

Behind him, he heard the door open and tried to ignore it. Probably just Nathaniel back from another escapade beneath the city. He finished healing the woman’s arm and then cleaned it carefully with a damp cloth. He handed her a potion and instructed her on its use to prevent any infection he may have missed and turned away to clean his hands. She had been the last patient of the day and he was tired. It was later than he usually stayed open, the fireplace needed another log and the torches were getting low.

Anders turned away from the basin, drying his hands and looking around for Nathaniel. He was going to put the lamp out and lock up.

“I put out the lamp for you already.”

The mage blinked and looked around again quickly - that was Fenris’ voice. The elf came out of a corner near the door. He looked tired, dirty, and nervous. Fenris turned away from Anders and put the bar down over the door for the mage before turning back. Anders crossed the room quickly, wanting to look the elf over and make sure he wasn’t hurt, but he stopped within arms-length.

_[Where have you been? I was worried.]_

“I... needed to clear my head. Did... Did they tell you...?”

Anders watched Fenris fidget with his hands his eyes staying focused on Anders’ hands so he wouldn’t have to look up.

_[Yes, but not much. Nathaniel said you were attacked by slavers and you killed a woman named Hadriana?]_

“Yes. She... she was my former master’s apprentice. She used to torment me. Hound my sleep, deny my meals...”

_[He said she was a blood mage. I’m glad she’s dead then.]_

Fenris blinked and looked up at Anders then. Anders smiled at him reassuringly and stepped a little closer. _[I don’t like blood magic either. Most mages outside of Tevinter don’t. There are exceptions, of course, but overall it is not widely smiled on. The few make the many look bad.]_

“But all the Coterie mages? The slavers...”

_[Are they really blood mages, though? Most of the mages Nathaniel has told me of use Entropy magic and Force magic. Blood mages use blood instead of mana. Life instead of the Fade. Entropy magic is illusion magic, making you believe you see or hear things, or even think things that aren’t true, but it is not blood magic.]_

Fenris frowned slightly as he thought about it before shaking his head. He reached out carefully and tilted Anders’ chin up, looking at the lines there for a moment. “One does not need magic to be cruel.”

He released Anders’ chin and the mage saw him blushing slightly. “Where is Nathaniel?”

_[Underground. Justice pushes him harder every day.]_

Fenris frowned again, his brow furrowing. “What is the difference between a demon and this... Justice?”

_[Demons feed off of our fears and emotions. Spirits do not feed from mortals. They embody virtues mostly. Spirits of Justice, Valour, Faith, and so forth. They usually have no desire to see the mortal world or enter it, unlike demons.]_

“Justice was... trapped outside the Fade, I think Nathaniel said?”

_[Yes, in a corpse. The body belonged to another Grey Warden, and after a year, his wife had suffered enough and the corpse was falling apart, so he and Nathaniel made a pact. He won’t be back tonight if that’s what you’re wondering.]_

Fenris’ blush darkened a little and he shifted his weight. “I don’t want to go back to the manor yet. I... Can I stay here?”

_[Of course.]_

“I spoke to Hawke about... about what happened. I’m still not sure how I am supposed to feel. I... feel empty. I thought the hate would go away when she was dead, but it’s still there.”

Anders gestured to a cot and sat down. After a brief hesitation, Fenris settled onto the cot next to him. The mage watched Fenris stare at his gauntleted hands in silence before carefully removing the claws and dropping them onto the ground.

“How do you let go of it? Does it ever go away?”

_[It doesn’t go away on its own. You have to let it go. Which is easier said than done.]_

“Am I supposed to forgive them? To forget what they did to me?”

Anders shook his head. _[You don’t have to do either, but your hatred will make it difficult for you to move on. To live your life.]_

“It isn’t that simple! It’s a sickness, this hatred...”

_[Good thing I’m a healer.]_

Anders smiled at Fenris, who snorted softly, the edges of his lips curling up and his face softened slightly. “Thank you.”

The mage shrugged and stood up. He gestured for Fenris to follow and led him to the back where Anders and Nathaniel usually slept (when Nathaniel actually slept) and pointed to Nathaniel’s cot.

_[Are you hungry?]_

“N-Yes.”

Anders shuffled about, checking donation baskets and bags until he came up with some apples, cheese, bread, a bottle of wine, and cold ham. He assembled all these things onto the desk and pulled a chair over for Fenris before settling down himself. The two ate mostly in silence, Fenris watching as Anders carefully made sure everything he ate was as soft as possible before putting it into his mouth.

When they were done, Anders collected everything again and wrapped them all carefully so that he could make a soup or something out of them in the morning and put them away in one of the baskets. He made sure all the torches were put out and gestured for Fenris to follow. In the back, Anders removed his coat and pushed his cot against Nathaniel’s before sitting down and pulling his boots off. He noticed Fenris had collected his gauntlets again and put them down on the floor near the cot along with his chestpiece and pauldrons. His sword he settled next to Anders’ staff and then climbed onto the cot next to the mage.

Anders smiled and pulled a blanket over the elf before laying down himself and drifting off to the sound of Fenris’ breathing next to him.


	9. Chapter 9

_“We must choose now, Nathaniel.”_

_“What? Why now? What’s going on?”_

_“Rolan is here with templars. He has betrayed us.”_

_“Where’s Anders?”_

_“Now Nathaniel. Do you accept?”_

_“....Yes. I accept.”_

*

They should have seen it coming, really. Nathaniel cursed softly as he peered around the corner of the building, quickly counting the number of warriors. Almost three years of pressure finally building up and spilling over in spectacular Kirkwall fashion. First the mad elf with the poisonous gas in Lowtown, and then a week later the Qunari delegation being kidnapped and murdered. Seamus Dumar’s murder was still not well known outside the Chantry and the guard - Grand Cleric Elthina not wishing to cause any problems by letting the population know that Mother Petrice had been baiting the Qunari.

He took a deep breath and peered around the corner again. The Qunari hadn’t noticed them yet, and seemed too busy killing looters and guards that came their way. Nathaniel nocked an arrow and watched Varric, waiting for the sign.

Leandra had been murdered by a blood mage shortly after that, and Hawke had withdrawn for two weeks before the mess with the Qunari finally came to a boiling point. The rogue was thankful that Fenris had been staying close to Anders for the past two months since his run in with the Tevinter woman that he’d killed. The healer seemed to have a calming effect on the elf, and the elf kept the Coterie and Carta away and currently made sure that any Qunari that came near the clinic would not leave with all their body parts.

Varric nodded finally, and Nathaniel took a deep breath before stepping around the corner and firing an arrow into the throat of the nearest Qunari. Behind him, Bianca began firing rapidly as vines crept through the stones and wrapped around the large horned-men’s ankles. He had to step to the side as Aveline and Hawke rushed past him, swords swinging.

The last Qunari fell and Nathaniel felt the blood draining from his face when he saw the group of swordsmen that had joined the battle from the other side more clearly. They were wearing Grey Warden blue and silver and the leader was looking at him curiously.

“Thanks for the help,” Hawke said, sheathing his sword and rubbing sweat out of his eyes. The warden smiled and shook Hawke’s hand.

“No problem. Sorry we can’t help more.”

“What do you mean? You’re not leaving the city, are you?” Varric sounded incredulous that the wardens would just leave in the middle of a battle.

“Well, we’re not supposed to really get involved in politics and this is sort of political. Also we have somewhere we need to be that’s a little more important at the moment.”

“More important than the Qunari attacking?” Hawke’s voice was incredulous.

“Unfortunately, yes. Good to see you wandering around Nathaniel.”

“...Hello Alistair,” Nathaniel replied finally and shifted uncomfortably under the other warden’s gaze.

“I don’t suppose Anders...?”

“He’s here.”

“Ah, well I know someone that will be glad to know you’re not dead. That would also explain what the Grand Cleric was talking about. Hm. Well, I may have inadvertently ruined whatever cover you had going on, Nate. Sorry about that.”

“So you’re just going to leave us?” Hawke interrupted as Alistair shrugged.

“Sorry, but you look like you have a handle on things. They were dragging nobles to the Viscount’s Keep up in Hightown. Qunari are all about honour, so you may be able to make some sort of deal with them if you’re lucky. Good luck, Nathaniel.”

Alistair nodded to him and then to Hawke before turning away with his unit and disappearing toward the docks. Hawke swore loudly before turning toward Hightown. Nathaniel watched the wardens disappear around a corner before he followed.

Hightown was easier to navigate, less civilians to avoid, though they did see the Qunari dragging a few off toward the Keep as Alistair had said. Outside the Keep, they found Knight Commander Meredith and the First Enchanter, which was an interesting meeting. Bethany was with the First Enchanter, along with a few other mages that had managed to make it through to Hightown, attempting to help in their own way.

Hawke hugged his sister tightly before stepping into the middle of Orsino and Meredith’s argument over who was in charge. As they discussed strategies, Nathaniel came up behind Bethany. She turned to him and buried her face against his chest. He sighed and put his arms around her gently, petting her hair.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly and she looked up at him, nodding her head. 

“It’s a lot to take in all at once... Mother just died last week and now this? What happened?”

“Isabela had a book of theirs, some sort of holy relic. She stole it from the Orlesians and the Qunari chased her here and then she lost it in the shipwreck. She just found it again tonight at the same time the Arishok finally decided he was sick of Kirkwall.”

“Isabela ran off with it didn’t she?” Nathaniel nodded with a wry smile. “Oh, poor Jeffrey.”

“Alright, Orsino is going to cause a distraction for the guards and we’re going to sneak past and into the Keep. Bethany, Nate, Varric, and Merrill with me. Aveline is going to see if she can rally any more guards. Nobody die, that’s an order.” Jeffrey Hawke swung his two-handed sword onto his back and led them grimly into the shadows as Orsino tossed a fireball into the center of the Qunari guards, coaxing them away from the doors and into the templars hiding around the corner.

Nathaniel kept close to Bethany and watched their rear as they slipped past the Qunari and into the Keep proper. There were bodies scattered all over the entrance hall, none of them Qunari. Nathaniel watched Hawke’s shoulder slump slightly at the sight of the carnage, and then square again as a handful of Qunari appeared at the top of the staircase. Weapons were drawn, arrows were fired, spells were cast, and then they were moving forward again.

The doors to the main throne room were pushed open and they found the room full of nobles. Nathaniel watched as Hawke stepped over something that looked like a head as he moved further into the room. Behind them, the doors were closed again and the nobles parted giving Hawke free passage to the Arishok.

Nathaniel swallowed nervously, suddenly very aware of how much bigger the Qunari were than them. Jeffrey was the tallest of their group by almost a full head - practically the same height and build as some of the shorter Qunari, but as he stood before the Arishok, even Hawke looked small.

“ _Shanedan_ , Hawke. I expected you, but for all your might, you are no different from these _bas_... You do not see.” The Arishok moved down the stairs toward Hawke as he spoke, hefting an enormous sword over his shoulder and shaking his head.

“I see a person who is ready to start a war on principle,” Hawke replied with a slight eyebrow quirk.

“And what would the Qunari be without principle? ...You, I suspect.” The qunari lifted the sword from his shoulder and rolled his neck a little, loosening the muscles in anticipation. “Prove yourself, _basra_ or kneel with your brethren.”

The Arishok turned his back then, nodding to one of the soldiers behind him. They were suddenly surrounded by the soldiers, all drawing weapons. Nathaniel drew an arrow the same instant Hawke swung his great sword around - slicing the head of one of the qunari off cleanly.

The battle was short and vicious, the qunari not holding back. Bethany kept them moving and Merrill used her vines to make sure the qunari had problems other than arrows and bolts to worry about while Hawke cleaved through the group.

When it was done, Nathaniel watched Hawke roll his shoulders, catching his breath and grinning. “Is that it? I’ve already cut my way through most of Kirkwall to get here, did you really expect them to be a challenge?”

“ _Parshaara_!” the Arishok moved down the stairs again, looking with some surprise at the bodies littering the floor now. “You are _basalit-an_ after all. Few in this city command such a respect. So tell me, Hawke, you know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this conflict resolved without it?”

“I believe I can answer that.”

The group turned and Nathaniel saw the grin on Hawke’s face broaden slightly as Isabela walked her way into the room, easily dispatching the qunari that stepped in her way. She smirked, holding the large book in question under one arm and winking at them as she passed.

“I’m sure you’ll find it... mostly undamaged.” Isabela handed the book over to the Arishok who took it reverently before passing it on to one of his soldiers. “It took me a while to get back, what with all the fighting... you know how it is.”

Hawke seemed to relax, his back straightening a little as looked at the pirate. “Never doubted you for a second.”

“It’s your fault you know,” she retorted with a glare up at Hawke. “I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. Pathetic.”

Varric snorted softly and caught hold of Merrill’s wrist to keep her from running to the pirate and hugging her. “Later, Daisy.”

“The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen. With the thief.”

“What?” Isabela and Hawke turned to the Arishok at the same time, eyes widening.

“She stole the Tome of Koslun. She must return with us.”

“You have your relic. She stays,” Hawke replied, his jaw tightening.

“Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death with her as the prize,” the Arishok replied, drawing a second weapon from its sheath. Nathaniel swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he stared at the two huge weapons the qunari held. 

“No! If you are going to duel anyone, then you can duel me!” Isabela retorted.

“You are not _basalit-an_. You are... unworthy.”

Hawke nodded to the rest of them and the qunari soldiers came forward again, leading them to the side. Nathaniel caught Bethany’s hand and squeezed it gently as Hawke rolled his shoulders once more and grinned.

“Alright then. Let’s dance.”

The duel was long and grueling. The Arishok had two weapons and was larger, but he moved so quickly that even Hawke’s slight speed advantage was difficult for the warrior to make use of. He darted around pillars, striking out and running again, trying to keep out of the qunari’s long reach.

Hawke was obviously starting to wear out when the Arishok finally caught him. The qunari thrust his sword into Hawke’s stomach and lifted him from the ground. Nathaniel’s breath hitched and he wrapped his arms around Bethany as she buried her face into his chest, sobbing. Even then, hanging on the Arishok’s sword, Hawke didn’t give up. 

Nathaniel watched as the warrior pulled the dagger he carried everywhere from it’s sheath on his thigh. Hawke’s face was a mask of agony, but he lifted the small thing and drove it into the Arishok’s throat.

The qunari stumbled, dropping Hawke and moving backward, trying to reach the dagger stuck in his neck. The sword slid from Hawke’s body with a sickening squelch and the warrior gasped before stumbling back against a pillar.

“One day, we shall return,” the Arishok said, pointing at Hawke with laboured breathing before he fell back - dead.

“That was unnecessarily dramatic, don’t you think?” Hawke said, coughing and trying to laugh as he looked over at his friends. Nathaniel caught Bethany around the waist, holding her close as the Qunari filed silently past and the templars forced their way in.

“It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion,” the Knight Commander commented, looking at Jeffrey with a frown. Nathaniel didn’t like the look on her face, but he wasn’t going to be able to keep Bethany from her brother any longer, and let her go. 

“Varric, see if you can get Anders and Fenris to Hawke’s estate. I think he’s standing on sheer willpower right now,” Nathaniel murmured to the dwarf. He slipped through the nobles to Hawke’s side and put an arm around the warrior, who was leaning heavily on his sister. 

“We need to get him back to the estate,” Bethany said urgently, and pushed a healing potion against Hawke’s lips.

“I sent Varric to get Anders. Can you do anything for him?”

“I’m afraid if I do anything it’ll have to be undone again when Anders gets to him. I can only really heal superficial things. I’m not trained or strong enough for this.”

Nathaniel could hear the panic in her voice and glanced at the templars between them and the door as he tried to coax the warrior toward it. “Will they let you...?”

Even as he said it, one of the templars stepped forward, stopping them. “Bethany, you need to come back to the Gallows.”

“Please Knight-Captain, my brother... he...” Nathaniel could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The Knight-Captain glanced at Hawke and then to Nathaniel. He turned briefly and gestured to another knight before turning back.

“Ser Thrask will help get your brother back to his estate and will let you know the outcome of his condition.”

Nathaniel nodded to the familiar red-haired templar as he took Bethany’s place on Hawke’s other side. It was telling that Jeffrey didn’t argue with the Knight-Captain. The rogue could feel the familiar anger welling up in his chest as he watched the Knight-Captain take Bethany’s elbow and lead her away.

It took a few deep breaths, but now was not the time to let his anger run away with him. Not while he was surrounded by templars and Hawke was hanging onto life by a thread. He needed to help her brother right now, it was more important.

“The Commander would have punished her if he hadn’t done that,” Thrask said softly as they limped through the doors and worked their way down the stairs of the main hall.

“It’s ridiculous. The city is on fire, the Viscount has been murdered and her brother just saved the Blighted city and Meredith would punish her for helping him?” Nathaniel snapped.

“I’m sure you’re well aware of her rigidity when it comes to rules and mages,” Thrask replied. “How are you going to fix Hawke here up?”

“Darktown healer will hopefully be waiting for us at the estate.”

“She’s going to come after him, you know.”

“What?” Nathaniel almost tripped down the Keep stairs in his surprise, looking across Hawke’s broad chest to the templar, who glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“We were in the Chantry before this all started. Elthina and the Commander were having a meeting. When she came out she said the Darktown healer was flouting Chantry law and would be punished.”

Nathaniel swore and kicked Hawke’s front door, hoping to get Bodahn to open it.

“Hey, don’t do that. It’s expensive,” Hawke slurred at the rogue even as the door opened and the three of them stumbled through the doorway. On the other side stood Fenris and Isabela, who took over, carting the warrior up the stairs where Fenris said Anders and Varric were waiting. In the main hall was Hawke’s mabari and Merrill, whose eyes widened at the sight of the templar. She quickly disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling something about helping Bodahn.

“Do you know when she plans on... collecting him?” Nathaniel asked, looking at the blood on his hands and clothes.

Thrask shook his head. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel. She’s also got new plans to stop the... um... ‘disappearances’ from the Gallows. You may want to scale it down.”

Nathaniel swore again and pinched the bridge of his nose before nodding. “She’s becoming unbearable, Thrask.”

The templar gave Nathaniel a half smile and shrugged. “I wish I could help more. Keran and I will keep an ear out for you, and watch out for Bethany, of course.”

“Thank you.”

Thrask nodded and glanced up the stairs then to the door. “I’ll get back. Send word when he’s out of danger and I’ll see that Bethany gets it.”

The rogue shook Thrask’s hand thankfully and opened the door for him. He stood in the doorway for a while, watching the red-haired templar disappear into the city. Nathaniel watched as people were already beginning to organize the bodies. Seneschal Bran was probably doing everything he could to get things cleaned up. With Seamus dead and the Viscount gone, he hoped they selected a new Viscount soon. One that would keep Meredith in check.

He returned to the main hall after closing the door and looked around the room. There was a trail of blood leading across the floor and up the stairs that Orana was already trying to clean up. Looking down at himself, Nathaniel saw quite a bit of blood on his armour, most of it probably Hawke’s.

Bodhan ushered him to a spare room and started a bath for him, the familiar routine of caring for guests seeming to help the dwarf keep calm. Nathaniel bathed, scrubbing the blood out of his hair and knowing he was going to have to do the same with his leathers before he went to sleep.

When he was done, he found that Bodhan had laid out some extra clothing for him, and his clothing had been taken to be cleaned. Nathaniel put it on, curious as to who it had previously belonged to. It fit him fairly well, though the trousers were a little long. He didn’t think they were Hawke’s clothes since he was pretty sure he would drown in anything that belonged to the huge warrior.

Nathaniel came down the stairs again and found that the others had also been cleaned and changed in the intervening time. He sat down with a sigh.

“How is he doing?” Nathaniel asked, glancing at Isabela. She was wearing one of Hawke’s house coats with her feet curled up underneath her.

“Anders said he’ll live. He lost a lot of blood though,” she replied, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“Is Anders okay?”

“He is asleep,” Fenris said, coming into the room. He was wearing some of Hawke’s clothing. The sleeves were tied up around his elbows to keep his hands free, and the trousers had been rolled up to his ankles so he could walk without tripping.

“That sounds like a brilliant idea,” Varric said from his perch at Hawke’s desk. He seemed to be wrapped up in what looked like a nightshirt that was big enough to be a dress on a human. Varric had hitched it up and belted it so he wouldn’t fall over when he walked.

“Um... Messere Nathaniel?”

The rogue looked up at his name to see Orana standing in the doorway, looking nervously at her feet.

“Yes?”

“Master-erm... Messere Hawke is asking for you.”

Nathaniel blinked. “He’s awake?”

“Yes Messere.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Nathaniel stood up, glancing around the room at the others, who also looked surprised, before following Orana out of the room.

“You did a lovely job cleaning everything up, Orana,” he commented as they mounted the stairs. “I’m sorry we made such a mess.”

“Thank you, Messere,” she said. He could see her cheeks had coloured brightly when they reached the top and she stopped to let him pass. Nathaniel smiled reassuringly at her before knocking on the door and entering Hawke’s room.

“Hawke? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Nathaniel closed the door behind him and came further in. Hawke was propped up against the headboard with pillows, looking extremely pale. His clothes had been changed, the sheets probably as well, and had blankets piled over him.

“I woke up,” Hawke replied. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. About Bethany.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel swallowed and sat down in the chair next to Hawke’s bed. “Won’t Anders get upset with you for not resting?”

“I’m not going to kill you, Nate.”

“That’s good.”

“I noticed that when we happened upon the mages and the templars today, that she went to you immediately after I hugged her.”

Nathaniel shifted and looked at the fire, trying to avoid the warrior’s piercing blue gaze.

“Did you want to tell me something?”

He hated that Hawke sounded so reasonable. The warrior was not usually reasonable. Intimidating and protective of his friends and family, yes. Reasonable when it came to said family, not really.

“Um... Well... I see her sometimes. In the Mage Underground.”

“Sometimes?”

“She’s one of my inside contacts.”

“And?”

“And... she won’t let me get her out of there.”

“Why?”

“Because she knows she’s a huge help and won’t leave because she’s as stubborn as her older brother.”

Hawke smiled, which made Nathaniel relax a little.

“What else?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Why are you tormenting me then?”

“Because I’d rather hear it from you.”

“I love your sister, okay?”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?”

Nathaniel snorted and looked up at Hawke with a small smile. “I suppose not.”

“Good. Don’t hurt her or I’ll break all your bones, okay?”

“Go back to sleep Hawke. Is this really why you woke up? You wanted to talk to me about Bethany?”

“Yes. You ran away last time I wanted to talk to you about her. And all the other times after.”

“Well you’re large and your arms are as big around as my head and Bethany is your little sister. I know I certainly wanted to beat up anyone that touched _my_ little sister.”

Hawke chuckled softly and then winced and coughed. Nathaniel stood up and pat him on the shoulder. “Go back to sleep. Anders will have my head if I make you rip anything open again, and he’s much scarier than you are.”


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s been a year, Varric! When the Void are they going to choose a new Viscount?” Nathaniel demanded, pounding a fist against the table in front of him. The dwarf raised his hands defensively and shook his head.

“Hey, don’t get mad at me, Grumpy. I don’t have a say in any of this. No one wants the job - anyone that shows interest suddenly changes their mind almost immediately. Now, I’m not saying someone is scaring them off, but I wouldn’t put it past Meredith to be discouraging them. The templars rule the city right now. There are more of them than city guards, Aveline is ready to march into the Gallows and lop the woman’s head off. The city is functioning, but just barely - we’re in a state of martial law. She does what she wants and Elthina lets her do it.”

Varric shifted at the head of the table, folding his hands and looking over his fingers at the rogue. “It doesn’t help that there’s word of a succession war in Starkhaven. Any refugees that were left in the city have taken caravans to Starkhaven to join the army. Darktown is almost empty now; Hawke has cleaned out all the gangs in the city; the Carta and the Coterie are laying low right now; and your Mage Underground is all but gone. Also, those pamphlets that keep mysteriously ending up all over the city have been banned by the Chantry and anyone caught with one is immediately arrested for sedition.”

“Aveline can’t possibly be alright with that,” Nathaniel said, pursing his lips and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“She’s not, but it’s not the guard that’s arresting them. People are scared. Meredith has made it a hanging offense for aiding apostates. I also heard from a reliable source that she’s thinking of sending for the Right of Annulment from Orlais to hold ‘just in case’.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Whatever,” Varric shrugged, “the woman is certifiable at this point. Orsino actually got to the point where he was openly speaking to crowds about how nuts she is.”

“I know, he did it in front of Hawke’s house the other day,” Nathaniel said with a sigh.

“Speaking of Hawke’s house - how is Anders?”

“Bored, nervous, annoying. The usual.”

“She really have it out for him?”

“Yeah. Found out we weren’t here at the behest of the Warden Commander in Ferelden. I could kick Alistair in the nuts.”

“Maybe you two should think about moving on?”

Nathaniel crossed his arms and shook his head. “I won’t leave Bethany in that place. This whole city is a cauldron waiting to boil over. The Veil here is so bloody thin... It’s making everyone crazy.”

“He can’t stay in Hawke’s estate for the rest of his life.”

“He doesn’t. Fenris follows him like a shadow when I’m not around.”

“I noticed. There something there I don’t know about?” Varric’s eyebrows went up and he fiddled with the quill on the table in front of him. Nathaniel just rolled his eyes.

“They’ve come to some sort of understanding and friendship over the past year, but as far as I know that’s it. Though Anders seems to enjoy saying things that makes the elf blush now that Fenris can understand his signing language.”

Nathaniel tried to ignore the disappointed look that crossed Varric’s face as he put the quill back. He certainly wasn’t going to tell Varric anything about the elf and the mage. They didn’t need it showing up in one of Varric’s stories. “At least Hawke has someone in that big house to take care of.”

“Yeah, I think he’s been happy to have us there, keeps him from thinking too much about his mother.”

“And Isabela.”

“She’s back though.”

Varric blinked and pushed away from the table. “Rivaini is back and didn’t even come say hello to me? I’m wounded.”

“She came back last night. They talked, then I think he threw her over his shoulder and dragged her upstairs.”

Varric snorted and smiled. “Well it’s about time, I say.”

“Not me. She’s loud.”

The dwarf laughed loudly at that and waved toward the door. “Hey Broody, how’s it going?”

Nathaniel turned in his chair and saw Fenris and Anders come through the door and sit down at the table. He smiled and nodded to them both as Fenris passed a piece of parchment across the table to Varric. The dwarf picked it up and unfolded it, glancing over the writing before looking up at Fenris.

“So Hadriana didn’t lie?”

Fenris shook his head. “Not this time, no. She will arrive any day. I... I am apprehensive.”

“You think it’s a trap?”

Fenris nodded then, glancing at Nathaniel. “I found my sister. Anders helped me write some letters to her, back and forth over the past few months. She’s coming to Kirkwall.”

Varric refolded the letter and handed it back to Fenris. “Well there’s nothing you can do about it right now. I’ll send some runners to the docks to keep an eye out for her and anyone following her. Just make sure you don’t go alone when you see her.”

“And that you leave Anders at Hawke’s estate - he doesn’t need to get caught in the middle of a possible blood mage trap when he’s already avoiding the templars,” Nathaniel said, looking meaningfully at the elf.

_[I’m right here, you know.]_

“Yes you are, Blondie. Bringing rainbows and sunshine to my dull little corner of Kirkwall,” Varric said, grinning at the mage, who gave him a suspicious look. “You want anything to drink?”

The rest of the evening was spent playing cards and telling stories. Varric was refusing to believe anything Nathaniel had to say about the Architect, so he had to rely on Anders to verify everything. Though Varric didn’t seem to believe Anders much either.

By the time Nathaniel and Fenris walked Anders back, the mage had been making up some very colourful phrases in regards to his terrible card playing. The rogue walked behind them, keeping an eye on their rear; and also making note of the fact that when Anders was not signing, he was holding Fenris’ hand. Nathaniel smiled to himself and pretended not to see. He was glad to see Anders settling in with the Hawke’s group, the mage was a social creature and seeing him lock himself away in the clinic for half a decade was somewhat depressing.

“I’ll fill Hawke in,” the rogue said as they reached Hawke’s estate. “Come get us whenever you want to go meet your sister.”

Fenris nodded his thanks and smiled. Nathaniel glanced at Anders and then opened the door, disappearing inside to leave the mage and the elf alone.

He couldn’t stop himself from peeking through a window, however. He couldn’t hear anything Fenris said, and Anders’ back was to him, so reading the signs was out of the question. However, their body language told a lot. It was strange, seeing this elf that had hated mages when they’d met smiling so gently at one. 

Nathaniel watched as Fenris moved closer to Anders hesitating before the mage threw his arms around the elf’s neck and kissed him. The look of surprise was priceless and Nathaniel chuckled to himself as he stepped away from the window. He didn’t want to get caught peeking, after all. He liked his heart where it was.

It was the next morning that the elf came calling again. Apparently his sister had arrived in the night and sent word that she would be at the Hanged Man every day for the next week. He wanted to get it over with, so Nathaniel, Hawke and Isabela followed Fenris to the Hanged Man to back him up. Anders had been left behind with Bodahn and Sandal, despite his arguments.

The Hanged Man was empty, morning not being a busy time for Corff, so the red-haired elf sitting near the back by herself was fairly obvious.

He didn’t like it, and stayed back as Fenris and Hawke moved forward. Nathaniel glanced at Corff who was quietly cleaning glasses, and at Norah cleaning tables. Isabela went to the bar and started speaking with the bartender softly. He saw Corff glance nervously at the top of the stairs at the back of the room and he pulled an arrow out of his quiver. Definitely a trap.

“Fenris!” Isabela was already drawing her daggers and moving across the room toward the elf as a thin, grey-haired man came down the stairs, flanked by a handful of guards.

“Ah... My little Fenris, predictable as always,” the old man said with a smirk.

“I’m sorry it came to this Leto...” the red-haired elf said, avoiding all of their faces as she spoke.

“You led him here?” Fenris growled, moving closer to her.

“Now, now. Don’t blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.”

“I never wanted these markings, but I will not let you tear them from my flesh!”

“How little you know, my pet,” Danarius chuckled. He was smiling at the elf with such a condescending, almost fatherly smile. It made Nathaniel sick to his stomach. “So this is your new master? The Champion of Kirkwall?”

The older man turned to Hawke, looking up at the warrior with interest. Hawke blinked, furrowing his brow at the magister. 

“Me? Master? Oh no, no, no... His new master isn’t here. Didn’t think you’d be worth the effort,” Hawke replied cheerfully.

“Now is not exactly a good time for jokes, Hawke,” Nathaniel murmured, glancing at Fenris who looked at the warrior angrily for a moment before understanding who he had been referring to. Danarius seemed to be taken aback by this statement, his smile fading for a moment.

“Why not? It’s not like he’s going to be alive in five-minutes to worry about it anyway,” the warrior retorted, a grin spreading across his face. It was then that Nathaniel realised that Hawke had been drawing his dagger - the same one he’d killed the Arishok with - and quickly nocked the arrow he had been holding. Hawke’s dagger flew past Danarius’ head, embedding itself into the wall next to the head of one of Danarius’ rear-guard.

“Shit, I thought I was better at that,” Hawke said, quickly drawing his sword.

“We’ll practice later, sweet thing,” Isabela called, laughing.

Nathaniel let his arrow fly, hitting one of the guards in the throat and was already nocking for the next as the others jumped into the battle. At the top of the stairs, Nathaniel was relieved to see Varric coming out of his rooms with Bianca and firing into the back of the Magister’s soldier’s. 

Wryly, Nathaniel wished they’d brought Merrill or Anders with them, because fighting a blood mage without magic was a bit of a pain. Even as his guards fell, Danarius was standing unharmed behind a shield spell and already began to raise his dead guards’ corpses, throwing them back into the fray. Nate moved forward quickly, grabbing Norah around the waist and tossing her behind the bar with Corff. 

“Get into the back room and lock the door,” he snapped right before he was thrown backward into a wall. Pain was blooming through his side and there were stars in his vision. It was stupid of him to let himself get distracted. He pulled himself up slowly, wincing and checking himself. No blood - he’d probably been hit by a spirit bolt or something similar. 

By the time he was on his feet again, the corpses were on the ground again and Shades were rising to take their places. Nate growled, drawing one of his daggers from his belt to deal with the closest. 

It was intense, and he was bleeding from multiple wounds by the time the Shade disappeared back into the Fade. Nathaniel rubbed sweat from his eyes, leaning against the bar as he watched Fenris’ hand leave the mage’s chest. He advanced on his sister as well, but Hawke and Varric intervened, and she ran out after making some remarks that didn’t make any sense to Nathaniel. Then again, his ears were ringing and his vision was still a little blurry at that point.

“Hey, Grumpy. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Nathaniel squinted at the blonde chest waving at him for a moment. “Forty-two?”

“Heh, not even close. You’re bleeding from your head. I didn’t think you had that much up there to hurt.”

“Ha ha. Everything’s a little fuzzy.”

“You just sit down right here then. Hawke? You okay?”

Nathaniel sat where Varric led him and closed his eyes with a relieved groan. Someone pushed a healing potion into his hand, which helped make things more focused. Behind them the door opened and Aveline came stomping in with a few guards.

“Where the hell have you idiots been!?” she demanded, making Nathaniel wince.

“Here, having dancing lessons with Fenris’ late, former master,” Hawke retorted, gesturing to the bodies around the room.

“The templars just raided your house, Hawke. They took Anders.”

Nathaniel stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process. “What?” echoed several times across the room.

“I got word of a disturbance in the Hightown square outside your estate and by the time I got there, Bodahn was having his head bandaged and decrying templars.”

“We have to get him out of there!” Nathaniel was already moving to the door, but Aveline caught him around the waist. 

“We can’t just go charging into the Gallows,” he heard Varric saying. “Stop glowing and sit down. You’re in no condition to go anywhere at the moment anyway.”

Nathaniel fought against Aveline’s grip for a moment, but he was still too weak after the fight with the magister to do much more than struggle a little. He let himself be led to the chair again and sat down. He glanced over and saw that Hawke was doing the same with Fenris, who seemed to have a lot more energy than he did, and fewer wounds.

“We have to be smart about this. Aveline, did they raid the alienage too?”

She shook her head. “No, Merrill’s fine as far as I know. I doubt they even know about her, she wasn’t sitting in Darktown blatantly using magic to heal people.”

Varric nodded and rubbed his chin. “Do you think you can speak with the Knight-Captain? Find out what the ‘disturbance’ was about? Do some reconnaissance?”

Aveline nodded and patted Nathaniel’s shoulder gently. “I’ll send Daisy over too.”

“Shit, I was supposed to take her to Sundermount this afternoon,” Hawke said, rubbing his face and letting go of Fenris finally and sitting down.

“I think she’ll understand,” Isabela told him with a chuckle.

“Maker’s ass,” Nathaniel murmured, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the back of the chair. They shouldn’t have left him alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Chenria! Deviant art is no longer loading the pictures so the picture that goes with this story is located here: http://chenria.deviantart.com/art/DABB-Anders-and-Thrask-351480148

He was feeling nauseous as they jostled him onto the Gallows dock from the ferry. Anders closed his eyes and tried to force the bile back down, causing a coughing fit. The templars didn’t seem to care though, and dragged him along despite his breathing problems.

“Let him breathe!”

Anders doubled over as they stopped at the order, gasping and coughing. He felt hands tugging at his coat, loosening his already loose collar and patting on his back. After what seemed like forever, his felt the irritation disappear with a wave of soothing magic. He took several deep breaths, trying to keep his panic under control. 

“Anders? Are you alright now? Can you get up?”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar and Anders opened his eyes as he slowly nodded and stood. He found himself looking at a templar with brown eyes and blond hair. 

“The Knight-Commander wants to see you immediately. Bring Alain along in case he needs another healing spell,” the templar said, gesturing to the others. Anders felt himself being tugged forward and he closed his eyes again.

He didn’t want to see the Gallows courtyard. He’d heard about it from Nathaniel - filled with templars, slave statues, and Tranquil mages. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as he thought about it; this place that would be his new home. It was all Rolan’s fault. If the Commander hadn’t left, if Rolan hadn’t joined the Wardens... he could still be in Amaranthine.

The sounds of the courtyard disappeared and he opened his eyes to find stone and stairs. It looked the same as it had in Feynriel’s dreams. He was led through one of the doors and down a hallway where the templar stopped and knocked on a door. An older elf emerged - First Enchanter Orsino - and frowned at Anders before sighing and nodding. He disappeared into his office and came back out a moment later with a bag. Orsino walked across the hall and knocked on the opposite door.

It opened and a blond Tranquil woman appeared, ushering the First Enchanter inside, along with Anders and one other templar. Knight-Commander Meredith was sitting behind her desk, reading through a pile of papers calmly. She looked up and leaned back in her chair, staring at Anders for a long moment.

“So, the Darktown apostate is finally here,” she said as she steepled her fingers. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for some time, mage.”

She stood up then, waving to the Tranquil, who left the room and closed the door softly behind her. “The Wardens that were here last year indicated that your and your dark-haired friend were both considered killed in action. They had no knowledge of your ‘mission’. I realised then that the Gallows was the safest place for you.”

Anders would have made some sort of derisive noise at this point, if he had been able to, but instead he just pursed his lips and rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been hiding behind Hawke’s coat-tails long enough. He cannot flout Chantry law and neither can you - Warden or no. Orsino?”

The First Enchanter sighed and came forward, opening the bag onto her desk. He pulled out a knife and a vial before advancing on Anders. His eyes widened as he realised what they were going to do and Anders shook his head violently, backing away from the First Enchanter, but the templar held him tightly as Orsino gave him a sympathetic look and nicked Anders on his forearm. He pressed the vial to the cut, collecting as much of the blood as he could before putting a stopper onto the vial and healing Anders’ cut.

“First Enchanter Orsino will make sure your phylactery is placed in a safe location,” Meredith said and nodded to the elf, who replaced the vial into the bag and stepped back. The Knight Commander sat down again and pulled out a quill. “I understand you were trained in Ferelden?”

Anders nodded.

“Did you complete your Harrowing?”

He nodded again.

“And you are a Spirit Healer?”

Nod.

“Full name?”

He looked at Orsino and then back to Meredith again. His hands were tied in front of him, but he doubted either of them would understand if he tried to sign anything.

“Full name?” she repeated, looking up at him with a flash of anger. Anders looked at Orsino again and lifted his chin, hoping the First Enchanter could see the scars. He lifted his hands and tapped his throat lightly and shook his head.

“I don’t think he can speak, Knight-Commander,” Orsino finally said and Anders nodded in relief. Meredith put her quill down with a frown and stood up, moving around her desk. She lifted Anders’ chin and inspected the scars brusquely before releasing him.

“Untie his hands,” she ordered and went back around her desk, rummaging for something. As he was rubbing his wrists where the rope had been she laid a piece of parchment and a quill in front of him. “Full name.”

Anders picked up the quill and wrote out ‘Anders’.

“That’s not a name, it’s a nationality. Name, mage. Now.”

He tapped the paper again, Anders was all she was getting. She pursed his lips and wrote his name down on her own paper. “Age?”

He held up three fingers, and then five.

“Thirty-five?”

Anders nodded. She wrote that down as well and then put her quill down. “I will tolerate no rule-breaking here, apostate. You will be put to work in the infirmary, making potions and salves. You will be escorted by Ser Hugh everywhere. If you are found anywhere without him there will be punishment, do you understand me?”

He pursed his lips and then nodded.

“Good. There are no staffs allowed and you must have permission from both First Enchanter Orsino and myself to use the library. Orsino, please have one of the children’s slate boards and chalk provided for him so he can communicate with others. That’s all.”

The templar and Orsino escorted him out into the hall and the door was closed behind them. The elf sighed and shook his head as he turned to Anders and Ser Hugh.

“Show him to his room please, Ser Hugh. Lunch is in an hour, I think you should give him a tour of the Gallows before then, and after lunch you can start work in the infirmary. I’ll make sure a slate gets to you sometime today... Welcome to the Gallows.”

Orsino disappeared back into his office and Ser Hugh gestured for Anders to follow him. The next hour was spent providing Anders with new clothes (robes); showing him where the communal bathing rooms were; his own room, which he would be sharing with three others; where the library and infirmary were; and finally the lunch room.

“Anders!”

He glanced around and saw Bethany coming toward him, slipping through the crowd and throwing her arms around him.

“I heard you’d been brought in. What happened?”

_[They broke into Hawke’s house and dragged me out while everyone was gone.]_

She frowned and glanced at Ser Hugh, who watched Anders’ hands with interest. “Is it alright if Anders sits with me, Ser Hugh?”

The templar shrugged and took up a sentry position near a pillar where he could see Anders clearly with Bethany as she dragged him a few tables away.

“Did they make a phylactery already?”

He nodded. _[I’m supposed to start working in the infirmary this afternoon.]_

“Good, I’m in there too. All that stuff you taught me paid off,” she grinned. “I teach the younger mages first aid and basic healing. We’ll have to send a note through Thrask or Keran. Let everyone know you’re alright.”

_[For now.]_

“You should be fine. Just stay away from Ser Karras and Ser Alrik and anyone that stays close to them. Ser Hugh is alright, he follows the Knight-Captain so he’s hard to gauge, but he’s nice to the mages, you should be fine with him.”

_[Is the rumour about the Rite of Annulment true?]_

Bethany shook her head and shrugged, glancing around. “No one knows. She does regular checks on our classes. She’s been pushing Orsino to allow her to do a full search of the tower, room by room, but he’s been keeping her at bay. I think he’s about ready to go to the Grand Cleric and demand she do something. We’re not allowed in the library without express permission, no staffs, no grimoires. There haven’t been any newly Harrowed mages in almost a year. Everyone who’s been taken to the Harrowing chamber hasn’t come out. All the younger mages are terrified.”

_[The tunnels, are they still open?]_

“No, she had them blocked up. I know that’s caused grumbling among the templars - they have to go into Darktown or Lowtown to meet lyrium smugglers.”

_[And only the two exits, both with portcullises. Windows?]_

“The only rooms with windows are the fifth floor on up, which is where the templars stay. Anything above them is closed off. Guess the Magisters wanted to discourage the slaves from throwing themselves out the windows so they didn’t give them any.”

Bethany glanced up and straightened as Ser Hugh came up to them. “Lunch time is over, they want you in the infirmary.”

Anders frowned and stood up. He hadn’t even really gotten anything to eat yet, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep food down the way his stomach was roiling.

He was handed a slate and chalk and they were both escorted to the infirmary where Anders spent the rest of the day teaching them how to properly make salves and potions.

His routine for the next few days was strict - morning ablutions, breakfast, infirmary, lunch, infirmary, dinner, infirmary, evening ablutions, bed. His roommates were quiet and avoided him, not wanting to be seen getting friendly with the Warden apostate. 

In the meantime, he and Bethany were kept abreast of the on goings of the city through Ser Thrask and Ser Keran. Hawke had apparently gone raging to the Grand Cleric since his house had been broken into and his servants abused by templars. The nobles were getting restless with the new curfew rules that Meredith was imposing, and the blocking of any attempts to elect a new Viscount. Even the templars were beginning to faction off - those that agreed with Meredith’s methods, those that didn’t, and those that followed the Knight-Captain, who Anders had been amused to learn was Ser Cullen from Kinloch Hold. Anders remembered him being a young knight the last time he’d seen him in Ferelden, one who was serious about his duty, but not unkind. He also remembered something happening to the young templar when Uldred had turned against the tower, and he’d been separated from the mages for a while after that.

After only a few days of this, the rules began to change again. Soon he was bundled with other mages, and they were all escorted to and from their respective areas by at least two templars. He was always followed by Ser Hugh regardless, since he was new and not to be trusted. 

When he’d first come, there were templar rounds going through the halls at night, but now they were instituting bed checks randomly through the night and at least one templar was permanently stationed in each dorm hall in addition to the ones that made the rounds. It was as if Meredith were becoming more and more paranoid now that he was here - though he was sure from all that Bethany had said that Meredith had been paranoid to begin with.

After two weeks of interrupted sleep and constant surveillance, not to mention the fact that the rooms and halls of the building were very tight; the mages were about ready to break. Anders spent as much time in the indoor gardens as he was allowed just so he could breathe. He could see the signs, there were at least three or four mages that had come to him - he’d practically taken over the infirmary - asking for something to end it. Anders had given them something to calm them down, but he knew it was only a matter of time before people started turning to the demons in their dreams - the only place they could get away from the templars.

“They’re coming tonight,” Bethany whispered as she sat next to him with a tray at the table. 

_[What are they going to do? Storm the Gallows?]_ He raised his eyebrows at her, looking slightly amused at the idea. He wouldn’t put it past Hawke to try, really.

“Thrask and Keran will come for us after the bed check tonight.”

Anders nodded and dug into his food before Ser Hugh came to collect him. He and his small group were led off to their respective areas and he was in the infirmary once more.

It was only an hour later that sounds of the ruckus came to their door. The younger mages were collected and moved to the back of the room with Bethany and another senior enchanter. Anders went to the door and peeked out. There he saw Ser Hugh and another templar staring down the hallway at First Enchanter Orsino.

“I will not tolerate this anymore, Knight-Commander! You’ve gone too far and this will not stand!”

Meredith came out after him and grabbed his arm with a growl. Anders couldn’t hear her words, but her meaning was clear.

“No, I will not calm down. You have already made us prisoners, taken away our defenses, and pushed many of my charges to the edge! This is going too far and the Grand Cleric will hear of it!”

Orsino pulled his arm from her grip and stalked off down the hall, exiting through one of the doors toward the courtyard. He heard Meredith swear and then she began to shout orders. Mages were to be locked in their rooms, a unit was to go with her to bring the First Enchanter back.

Ser Hugh turned to him and gestured for him to re-enter the room, and Anders stepped back as the door was closed and then locked. He turned back to the other mages with a frown.

_[Orsino is going to the Grand Cleric. I’m worried.]_

Bethany translated for the rest of the room and then organised for the children to be grouped up and told a story to keep them distracted. He watched as she then went to the shelves and began to organise the bottles. What could be carried, what couldn’t, what could be used for bribes, what couldn’t, what could be used for defense, and so on. 

Anders took a deep breath and tried to think. Hawke wouldn’t let Meredith annul the circle. He’d set Kirkwall on fire before he’d allow Meredith to murder all these people, especially his sister. They just had to hold out till then. He looked at the door for a moment. It swung inward to open, so he started to drag one of the heavier tables over to it. After a moment another mage came over and helped him as they positioned it against the door, effectively blocking any templars that may try to come in.

He grabbed his slate and wrote out notes for each of the adults mages in the room. They would use spell shields and glyphs - defensive magic only if the templars came through with intent to harm. As long as they stuck to defensive magic before they were silenced they would have a bargaining tool in their own favour to keep the templars from killing them outright. He knew from experience that most templars didn’t want to kill mages that weren’t trying to kill them first.

Then they paced. The room was ten feet by fourteen feet, not large for an infirmary, but there wasn’t usually a need for anyone to stay overnight in the room.

Anders heard it first - the distant sound of steel clashing, people screaming, and spells being thrown. He stopped his pacing and stood in the middle of the room, just listening. Behind him, the storyteller began to speak louder, hoping to block the children from the noises, but soon it drowned out everything else. The fighting was close.

His fingers twitched as he felt the oppressive throbbing of distant smites and silences as they bounced off the walls and through the hallways.

Suddenly there was silence.

Anders almost strained himself trying to hear something - anything. What came wasn’t a noise though, more of a feeling. The light seemed to change - everything becoming a reddish colour. It felt like the light was tugging on him, pulling at his clothes and hair, clawing at his magic.

He looked to Bethany and the others and saw that they felt it too. Some were squirming and trying to brush away invisible hands, others curled into tight balls, crying softly. Then there was a screeching noise - like the sound of metal grating against stone, and a thump that seemed to shake the whole building.

The sounds of battle began again, and the thumping happened again, and again. At least six times, Anders counted. There were more thumping noises and shaking, one for each of the earlier thumps.

The red light became brighter for a moment then, and Anders heard a cry that he was sure had been heard even in the Fade. There was complete silence once more after that. Anders could hear his heart beating and wrapped his arms around his torso nervously, waiting. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but no one moved.

They stayed there for what seemed like hours when a knock came at the door, and the handle was jiggled.

“Anders? Bethany?”

“It’s locked! We don’t have the key!” Bethany moved across the room to the door and started trying to drag the table out of the way. Anders grabbed the other end and they moved it away from the entrance just as a blue hand came through the door and pulled the door latch out of the wood. It swung open slowly and standing there, a little worse for wear, was Hawke, Fenris, and Nathaniel.

Anders threw his arms around Fenris’ neck and collapsed against the elf. The stress and worry of not knowing whether templars would come through the door to kill them or not was overwhelming. He felt the elf awkwardly pat his back.

“What happened?” Bethany asked as Hawke filed the other mages out of the room.

“Meredith went nuts. Followed Orsino into the city and called for the Rite of Annulment because he wouldn’t let her peek in your underwear drawers for blood magic. He didn’t even make it all the way to the Grand Cleric - who is probably going to have a fit over this. Orsino came running back to try and save as many as he could and we came with him. Tried to bargain with her, but that weird lyrium idol we found in the Deep Roads that Bartrand stole and sold? Yeah, Meredith had it made into a sword. She literally lost her bloody mind and started bringing the Blighted statues in the courtyard to life. Even Cullen turned against her. Cullen is trying to gather up as many mages as he can, but a lot of them were killed and I’m sure a bunch escaped across the channel and into the city. This story is going to spread across the entire Free Marches by the end of the month,” Hawke said as they moved. He would stop to open doors as they passed, letting the mages know that they were safe now.

“He’s giving us a ‘head start’,” Nathaniel said, holding Bethany’s hand tightly as they walked. Anders couldn’t blame him, he doubted he would let go of Fenris any time in the near future. Not until they were well away from Kirkwall.

“So if you two disappear among the crowd...” Hawke added with a nod.

_[Phylacteries!]_

“Already taken care of. Thrask had smuggled them out this morning in preparation for your escape. They’ve been destroyed already, along with a large number of others, so it doesn’t look suspicious that just yours are missing.”

Anders let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Isabela and Merrill are preparing a ship. Varric and Aveline are going to stay to help clean up the city and cover our tracks,” Hawke explained as they came out into the Gallows courtyard. 

Anders looked around, slowing down a little as the urge to stop and help people began to gnaw on his conscience. Fenris wouldn’t let him, however, and kept them moving through the courtyard to the side docks where Isabela would be waiting.

“I’m ready to leave Kirkwall behind, truthfully,” Hawke said, grinning a little at them. “What do you think of the Anderfels?”

_[Flat, blighted, and cold.]_

“Orlais?”

“We just attacked the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and let a bunch of mages loose, I don’t think Orlais would be happy to see us,” Nathaniel said, his voice bland.

“Well balls. Nevarra?”

“Better, but between Kirkwall and Orlais,” was Fenris’ response.

“Rivain has Qunari; Antiva is a bit of a mess politically; Tevinter is right out; so that leaves...”

_[Ferelden?]_

“Ah well. I kind of missed the mud anyway.”

Anders heard Nathaniel snort as they walked up the gangplank of a ship and were greeted by the captain and the slobbering mabari at her side. 

Isabela grinned.

“Now it’s time for the _real_ fun.”


End file.
